sf'v'^'^j,''"^.''/': 




■••^^■' 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

Chap..L:ft.'^^}right No. 



Shelf. 



.3\-^il3 



UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



A TEACHER'S MESSAGE 



HANNAH PERKINS DODGE. 



1821-1896. 



Prepared by 
WILLIAM J. CLOUES. 






BOSTON 
1896. 






^ 



'.^ 




s> 



Copyright, 1896. 
BY WILLIAM J. CLOUES. 






Press ot 

Ai.Fui:i> MUD'.K & Son. 

Boston. 



In memory of her 



Whose Friendship was a Privilege and Treasure 



3l^is Volume 



18 GRATEFULLY DEDICATED TO HER 



brothers and sister. 



My immortal miud is a caslvct more valuable 
thau gems of earth or sea. My earnest endeavors 
shall henceforth be directed to the storing of it 
with jewels worthy of a place therein. 

H. P. DODGE. 

Essay, Oct. 30, 1844. 



CONTENTS. 





Page. 


Address 


7 


Tributes 


30 


Memorial Address 


37 


Selections in Poetry: 




Oh ! I would live in visions ! . 


49 


All things speak to me . . . . 


50 


All things smile .... 


51 


Nature 


52 


The Ideal in Nature 


53 


Smiles of Eden 


53 


On a Spring-like Day in Mid-winter 


55 


Song of the Indian Summer Spirits 


55 


The Lover's Jubilate 


56 


The Organ 


57 


Recantation 


58 


To a Star 


59 


Thoughts at Eventide 


60 


From my Heart, — a Mood 


60 


The Ride 


62 


What is Man V 


63 


The Pauper's Funeral 


64 


Morning Hymn .... 


65 


Evening Hymn .... 


65 


Song ...... 


66 


Tlie Hours 


67 


North School Song 


68 



CONTENTS. 



The Ell King . 

My Gold and my Jewels 

The Ideal 

Selections in Prose: 
Talks to her Pupils. 



69 
71 

72 



I. Self-g'overnment 


75 


II. Industry .... 


86 


III. Wisdom .... 


93 


IV. Friendshii) and Love 


. 100 


V. The Study of Nature 


. 108 


YI. Womanlj' Virtue 


113 


Benevolence .... 


. 122 


Art Education .... 


. 126 


Engraving 


. 145 


Cathedrals 


. 153 


Michael Angelo 


. 157 


Winds and AVaves 


. 166 


The Teacher and her Work . 


. 168 


Letters of Travel . . . . 


. 175 


Miscellaneous Selections 


. 182 


Sonnet 


. 201 



A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 



HANNAH PERKINS DODGE. 



1821-1896. 



Miss Dodge died on the morning of 
Jan. 11, 189G, at her residence in Little- 
ton, Mass., at the age of seventy-four 
years, eleven months. The funeral ser- 
vices, attended by many relatives and 
friends, were held in the Baptist meeting- 
house, Littleton, Mass., Jan. 15, 1896. 
The}^ were conducted by her pastor, Rev. 
William J. Clones, and included Scripture 
readings ; the hymns, " O God, our help in 
ages past," " A mighty fortress is our 
God," and " Beneath the cross of Jesus " ; 
prayer by Rev. R. G. Johnson, of West 
Medway ; an address on her life and 
character by the pastor ; and the reading 
of extracts from letters received from the 



6 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

following friends and eminent persons by 
whom she was well beloved: Rev. C. H. 
Spalding, Mrs. D. H. Rice, Prof. L. E. 
Warren, Rev. A. N. Dary, Miss S. F. 
White, Miss H. S. Mead, Rev. G. W. 
Gile, Rev. W. H. Eaton, Dr. H. L. 
Wayland, Dr. Edward G. Porter, and 
Dr. Edward Everett Hale. She was 
laid to rest in the cemetery in Littleton. 



AN ADDRESS 

DELIVERED JAN. 15, 1896, BY THE REV. 

WILLIAM J. CLOUES, ON THE LIFE 

AND CHARACTER OF MISS 

HANNAH P. DODGE. 

THE town of Littleton to-day mourns the 
loss of one of the most talented, dis- 
tinguished, and revered daughters in its 
history. While, in the decease of Miss 
Hannah P. Dodge, the church universal, 
as well as our own church, loses one 
whose rare gifts and noble ministrations 
were always consecrated to God's service, 
the cause of higher education also is 
deprived of one of its noblest endowed 
and most successful teachers of young- 
women. From to-day on, as the sad 
news finds its way to former associates 
and more remote pupils in all parts of 
our land, there will be sorrow at the great 
loss sustained. Yet our common sorrow 
can dull but little the keen sense of our 
personal bereavement. The sentence of 



8 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

Goethe's, one of her favorite quotations, 
" All is fruit, and all is seed," finds re- 
markable fulfilment in the rich fruitage 
of her own life and character, and in 
the high aspirations she awakened in 
other lives. 

Miss Dodge was born at the old home- 
stead in North Littleton, Feb. 16, 1821. 
Very early in life there Avere indications 
to parents and friends that she had been 
endowed naturally with gifts of no ordi- 
nary kind. She was brought up as a 
farmer's daughter, and inherited from 
her honored parents, Barnabas and Sarah 
Dodoe, and from her ancestors, — at least 
three of whom served in the War of the 
Revolution, one of them being a captain 
in Col. Gerrish's regiment in service at the 
Battle of Bunker Hill, — certain sturdy 
and admirable traits of character. These, 
in her case, found expression in an early 
and absorbing thirst for knowledge and a 
desire for a broad and thorough education. 
From her father she received that love of 
books which led him to establish two 
small village libraries, and which, in order 
to arouse a similar interest among his 
children, caused him to spend the long 



HANNAH P. DODGE. 9 

winter evenings in reading aloud to them 
from book or paper as they gathered 
around the cheerful hearth. From her 
mother she received that capacity for 
administration which commanded the ad- 
miration of so many and contributed no 
small part to her success. At the dis- 
trict school she gave frequent evidence 
of the possession of that vigorous and 
fertile mind destined to do so much for 
her pupils. In an early composition she 
aptly likened her mind to a golden and 
jewelled casket ]daced in her hands for 
use and blessing. When only twelve 
years old, on March 19, 1833, she obtained 
one of the small l)ut much coveted prizes 
offered by the Littleton Lyceum for excel- 
lence in English composition. A'Vhile it 
was also early realized that she possessed 
high moral qualities, — 

''The full, rich nature, free to trust. 
Truthful and almost sternly just, 
Impulsive, earnest, prompt to act, 
Ami make her generous thought a fact, 
Keeping with many a light disguise 
The secret of self-sacrifice." 

When seventeen years of age she taught 
her first school, receivino- for her services 



10 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

but one dollar a week and her board. 
This school was the one situated in Gro- 
ton, between Forge Village and the old 
Ridge Tavern. This marked the begin- 
ning of her long and successful career as 
an educator. For several terms, the last 
ending April 5, 1843, she taught the old 
North School of Littleton, in whose fa- 
mous reunions she, and her younger and 
lamented sister Emma, took so lively an 
interest, and Avhere, years later, her sister, 
Miss Nancy P. Dodge, also taught. 

This was succeeded by several terms of 
teaching in the two earlier schools in the 
Nashoba district ; Miss Dodge being the 
second woman to teach a Littleton district 
school in the important winter term. 

In these first years of teaching she was 
accustomed to visit the schools of neigh- 
boring teachers in Littleton and else- 
where, and to attend school institutes, in 
order to improve her own methods of in- 
struction and discipline. And many trib- 
utes given then and since, by these first 
pupils, show how she won their love and 
esteem as well as their honor and respect. 

On July 5, 1840, she was baptized by 
the Rev. Oliver Ayer into the membership 



HANNAH P. DODGE. 11 

of this church. During the more than 
half a century since that time, she has 
loyally retained her membership with us, 
and thereby imparted to the home church 
the lustre of her fame and character. 

During the time from March, 1840, 
until March, 1841, she was a student for 
several months in Lawrence Academy, 
Groton. From there she went to the 
Townsend Female Seminary, an institu- 
tion of learning then among the first of 
its class in the land. It was at that time 
thriving under the efficient direction of 
the late Miss Ruth S. Robinson, a woman 
of rare judgment and mental attainment, 
the sister of the revered Ezekiel G. Rob- 
inson, once president of Brown Univer- 
sity. Here Miss Dodge's varied talents 
found wider fields for their development. 
And in her bright young face, that 

" Countenauce iu which did meet 
Sweet records, promises as sweet,*" 

her teachers also saw 

" The reason Arm, the temperate will, 
Endurance, foresight, strength, and skill : 
A perfect woman, nobly planned. 
To warn, to comfort, and command, 
And yet a spirit still, and bright 
With something of an angel light." 



12 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

Soon after her oTaduation, in 1843, she 
was recalled to her Alma Mater to take 
her place among its teachers. Then after 
only one year's service was called in 1846, 
at the age of twentj^-five years, to occupy 
the important position of Principal, a 
place at that time of marked distinction. 
For seven years, with widening success, 
she filled this position. In addition to 
her duties as Principal, she taught Latin, 
Mental and Moral Philoso})hy, Drawing, 
and Painting. Her remarkable resources 
for these duties became increasingly ap- 
parent. Scores of pupils, many of them 
living to-day, could testify to the great 
intellectual and spiritual quickening im- 
parted to them in the class-rooms and 
dormitories at Townsend. Here was 
aAvakened in other hearts a love like her 
own for the beautiful in art and nature, 
literature and life. Here, through her poet- 
ical gifts, lofty and choice thought found 
form and substance in several beautiful 
poems; her spirit of devotion moving 
her to write several morning and evenino' 
hymns for use in the public exercises. 
In the early part of 1852 she visited Nor- 
folk, Va,, and taught several months in 



HANNAH F. DODGE. 13 

the school of Miss Ruth Robinson. In the 
fall and winter of 1852-53 'she attended 
sessions of the Normal School, Boston, 
and presumably taught classes there. 

In November, 1853, she felt obliged, 
on account of ill health, to resign her posi- 
tion at Townsend. But her rest was not 
a long one. She was next called, Septem- 
ber, 1854, to be Principal of the Oread 
Institute for Young Ladies at Worcester, 
where her former success as a teacher and 
Principal was continued and established. 
Here, on one of Worcester's beautiful 
hills, in the buildings which architecturally 
reminded the passing stranger of some 
castle overlooking the Rhine, Miss Dodge 
gathered about her scores of young women. 
To them she became the embodiment of 
all that was inspiring and elevating in edu- 
cation, art, and morals. The English de- 
partment, including Mathematics, Rhetoric, 
Natural Sciences, Mental and Moral Philos- 
ophy, was under her personal supervision, 
with the well-beloved Elizabeth Arms Way- 
land, formerly associated with her at Town- 
send, as her assistant ; the department of 
ancient and modern languages being under 
the direction of Professor H. W. Carstens. 



14 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

Here Miss Dodge employed her moaients 
of relaxation from school duties in render- 
ing into English poetry some of the classic 
poems of Goethe and Schiller. Her class- 
room worlv, always of a high order, was 
daily supplemented by the influence of 
her gracious and strong personality, while 
she sought to impart to her school, as far 
as possible, the atmosphere of home. In 
this larger educational centre she formed 
life-long friendships with prominent and 
well-known educators and philanthropists. 
Among her advisers were President Fran- 
cis Wayland of Brown, his son, Dr. H. L. 
Way land, then pastor of the Main Street 
Baptist Church, Worcester, now of Phila- 
delphia, Dr. E. E. Hale, Hon. Eli Thayer, 
Hon. Isaac Davis, H. S. Washburn, Esq., 
Dr. Barnas Sears, and others. 

In all her work at Worcester, as always 
elsewhere, she failed not, in the faithful 
devotion to her calling, to invariably give 
due recognition to the religious instincts 
of her pupils, both in public exercises and 
in class-room work. She planned to 
educate her pupils in righteousness and 
holiness, as well as in mental alertness 
and literarv and linouistic skill. 



HANNAH P. DODGE. 15 

In the suiDmer of 1859 she laid aside 
her school cares for a year of travel and 
study in Europe. During this time, in 
company with Mrs. Caroline W. Hortou, 
she visited, Paris, Cologne, the Rhine, 
Heidelberg, Lucerne, Geneva, Milan, 
Florence, Pompeii, Rome, Genoa, Venice, 
Dresden, London, Edinburgh, and many 
other famous places. She studied the 
modern languages, French, German, and 
Italian, in their homes, and still further 
developed her talent for art under skilful 
Italian and German teachers in Rome and 
Dresden. Returning to her own countr}^ 
in the summer of 1860, better prepared 
than ever before for her chosen work by 
her extended observation, studies, and 
experience, thoroughly familiar with the 
best methods of instruction al)road. Miss 
Dodge opened, Oct. 22, 1861, her remark- 
ably successful school for young ladies at 
Codman Hill, Milton, Dorchester. She 
stated her high aim in the following lan- 
guage of her first circular : 

" It is the aim of the Principal, not only 
to furnish every facility for intellectual 
development, but to surround the pupil 
l)y those influences which will elevate and 



16 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

develop the character. All mental pro- 
gress must be subservient to this end ; to 
the attainment of which, high culture is 
of inestimable value. The accomplish- 
ments are not of necessity showy appen- 
dages to a superficial education ; but, in 
connection with a well-disciplined mind, 
are themselves a means of developing the 
powers, cultivating the taste, and beauti- 
fying the whole character. We would 
send forth educated American, Christian 
women, who may illustrate the noble part 
woman is capable of acting in the advanced 
civilization of the age." 

With experienced teachers to assist her, 
among whom were ^Nliss M. S. Clapp, Mr. 
Charles Ansorge, Madame Doudiet, Prof. 
Hermann Daum, and Miss Sarah F. 
White, during all the uncertain 3'ears of 
the war, Miss Dodge made the Codman 
Hill School so desirable an educational 
shrine, that to it many of the choicest and 
l)riglitest young women from the best 
homes of New England and elsewhere 
found their way. This school, her own 
creation, may be accounted, for many 
reasons, her most successful venture as 
an educator and administrator. It was 



HANNAH P. DODGE. 17 

started and carried on amidst difficulties 
and under limitations which would have 
j^roven fatal to the plans of a less reso- 
lute and experienced educator. But she, 
whose ambition from early years had 
been to live, to learn, to grow, perse- 
vered, and saW' many of her choicest 
hopes realized in the successes of the 
Codman Hill school. 

After completing her work at Codman 
Hill, in 1866, Miss Dodge spent several 
months in rest and recuperation. From 
September, 1868, to June, 1870, she suc- 
cessfully filled the otKce of Lady Princi- 
pal of the Ladies' Collegiate Department, 
of Kalamazoo College, Michigan. She 
then returned to New England again. In 
September, 1872, she became a meml)er of 
the faculty of the New London Literary 
and Scientific Institution, now Colby 
Academy, New London, N. H., of which 
Prof. Laban E. Warren, now of Water- 
ville. Me., was then president. In Sep- 
tember, 1874, she was called to assume 
the responsible position of Lady Princi- 
pal, succeeding Miss Mary O. Carter. 
This same position she had 1)een asked to 
occupy, the first one to receive the in vita- 



18 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

turn, over twenty years before. She filled 
this office until June, 1877, during one 
of the most critical periods in the history 
of that institution. Her services to it 
and to the cause of education, at a time 
when burdens were many and heavy, 
were of great vakie, especially since she 
brought to the task her wide experience 
and skill as a teacher, her rare natural 
gifts, and her influence from previous 
successes. She taught the most advanced 
classes in the school. Her department in- 
cluded German, English Literature, Polit- 
ical Economy, Mental and Moral Philos- 
ophy, and the Evidences of Christianity. 

In 1877 she resigned her position, and 
then, after spending some fort}^ years in 
faithful services as an educator, she came 
liack to her native town for the rest so 
laboriously earned. But the cause of edu- 
cation still called her, and, as so often 
before, the call met from her a generous 
response. During four successive years, 
1878-1882, the people and schools of 
Littleton were privileged to enjoy her 
valuable services as the only Lady Superin- 
tendent of schools it has ever had. In 
1879 she prepared and read her valuable 



HANNAH P. DODGE. 19 

historical address in the observance of the 
semi-centennial of our Lyceum. For vari- 
ous occasions having prepared and given 
lectures on " Churches and Cathedrals," 
" The Chrysalis," on " Winds and Waves," 
and on " Thought expressed hy Art," many 
made known to her their desire to hear 
her in the Lyceum course. Accordingly, 
in 1881, she complied with the wishes of 
her friends and gave an interesting and 
successful lecture on one of her favorite 
artists, " Michael Angelo." Heartily inter- 
ested in the establishment of the Reuben 
Hoar Lilirary, she was elected a member 
of the Board of Trustees, and served as its 
secretary from its organization in 1885 to 
March, 189o. To her efforts, as a member 
of the Soliciting Committee for raising the 
library subscription fund, she herself head- 
ing the list with a generous amount, and 
writing able articles for the press in advo- 
cacy of the plan, is due in a measure our 
possession of such a beneficial institution. 
In March and April, 1886, in company 
with her friend, the late Mrs. Lucy M. 
Kimball, she joined a party of excursion- 
ists and visited Mexico ; this journey being- 
one of several which Miss Dodo:e under- 



20 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

took from time to time to enlarge her 
knowledge of her own land and its people, 
or to visit her friends in their homes. 
An active worker in the temperance cause, 
for several years she was the tirst presi- 
dent of the local Women's Christian Tem- 
perance Union, and at the convention held 
here in 1890 gave the address of welcome 
for the society. Thus her influence was 
felt in all the homes of Littleton. It is 
certainly no easy task to speak of her ser- 
vices in our church. These have been 
many, varied, and unceasing. In every 
part of our church life her influence has 
been felt. 

" The blessing of her (|uiet life 
Fell on lis like tlie dew. 
And good thoughts, where her footsteps pressed, 
Like fairy blossoms grew. 

" Sweet promptings unto kindest deeds 
Were in her very look. 
We read her face, as one who reads 
A true and holy book." 

She was for many years the beloved 
president of our Ladies' Circle, and 
teacher of a large class in our Sunday 
school. And served, as only she could, 
as a member of many committees, ap- 



HANNAH P. DODGE. 21 

pointed for various purposes. It is due 
largely to her efforts and aid that Ave enjoy 
the possession of many things which con- 
tribute to the efficiency and success of the 
work of our church. 

How many have known of her kind- 
nesses, her lienevolences, her [)hi]anthro- 
pies, especially in mission fields. How 
widely, how judiciously, how unobtru- 
sively, she gave ; if not always in a finan- 
cial way, yet, after all, perhaps in a more 
valuable way, in kindly advice and sym- 
pathetic counsel . She wanted to share her 
possessions with others, as they can testify 
who remember her Shakespearian Club ; 
her lectures on Art, Engravings, and Pict- 
ures in the " Pastor's Literary Hours " sev- 
eral years ago ; her interest in our young 
men's reading-room in our vestry one win- 
ter, and her support of it ; her familiar 
basket of photographs and curiosities for 
the tal)le at the church social, her beauti- 
ful and interesting readings at the same ; 
her many gifts fashioned by her own hands 
for little ones among her friends ; her genial 
sharing with her guests the painting, the 
book, the flower which had brouo;ht lioht 
and joy to her own life ; her delightful 



22 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

letters of consolation and counsel upon 
the most varied topics and in reply to a 
great variety of requests ; her sprightly 
narration of some anecdote or incident or 
reminiscence which she had found in her 
reading ; and last of all, the unfolding, as 
of some rare exotic, of her rich and mani- 
fold spiritual experiences to her pastor and 
her nearest friends. 

In the delineation of her character I 
feel she would say, 

" Banish all coiiipliiiiHiits l)ut single truth.'" 

And yet, any attempt to tell Avhat she 
was, so rare was her nature as a whole, 
and so unusual her successes, might indeed 
seem, to one who did not know her, 
friendship's exaggeration. But, when you 
consider what it meant tifty years ago for 
a young woman to start out, as she did, 
from a secluded farmer's home, with bright 
face, eager step, and ambitious spirit, to 
make something of herself in the world, 
and to be of service to others in one of 
God's no1)lest and most exacting voca- 
tions ; and when you hear, though in how 
meagre a way, to what she attained, you 
cannot fail to realize, that she indeed pos- 



HANNAH P. BODGE. 23 

sessed great gifts of mind and heart, har- 
monized into beautiful and attractive sym- 
metry of character. 

Miss Dodge combined (jualities not often 
found in the same person. She had a 
nature responsive, almost to pain, to the 
beautiful, the true, the good in every- 
thing ; to which her paintings, poems, 
and teachings, her conversation, and home 
surroundings, all bore witness. But she 
was also very })ractical in matters of daily 
life, precise in manners, accurate in lan- 
guage, keen in business, wise in finance. 
The motto she once gave her pupils was 
true of herself. She planned for eternity 
and lived by the day. 

Miss Dodge possessed a keen intellect, 
stored with choice knowledge and wisdom, 
sharpened by years of study and discipline 
in the works of Bishop Butler, Paley, Hop- 
kins, Wayland, and others ; so that, until 
the intirmity of advancing age hindered, 
it was always ready to inquire, to investi- 
gate, to analyze the subject in hand, what- 
ever it might be. She was a born reasoner. 
She could state her own opinions clearly, 
strongly, tersely. She could give a rea- 
son for her conclusion. She seldom trusted 



24 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

her intuitions alone. In this her mind 
had that grasp and vigor which is now no 
longer attributed exclusively to man. 
Then, on the other hand, she could enter 
with rare appreciation into the realms of 
the unseen, the visionary, the fanciful, 
with the poets of the ages for her com- 
panions, particularly with her favorite 
authors, Shakespeare, Dante, Goethe, 
Emerson, Browning, and Tennyson. The 
poet and financier rarely dwell in the same 
mind. The philosopher and artist are not 
usually thus associated in the same person. 
She was one whose friendship Avas a 
choice treasure. She was a welcome 
guest as the cherished friend of many 
homes. While always glad to commend 
a friend's best effort, she never harshly 
criticised a physical defect or an unavoid- 
able mistake. Her championship of her 
friends was always decided, strong, cer- 
tain. Do the best you possibly can, — 
this had been her life-long aim. She 
asked that of those about her ; more than 
that she never demanded. Her friend- 
ship was perhaps best illustrated in the 
affection, service, and fidelity of her at- 
tendants and companions during many 



HANNAH P. DODGE. 25 

years, one of whom* had preceded her 
into the unseen world by only a few 
months, as if , it would seem, to be present 
to welcome her dear and revered earthly 
friend to the home of heavenly liirht as 
she had so often welcomed her here. 

Miss Dodge's religious experience grew 
in richness and beauty with her mental 
growth. She Avas always an appreciative 
listener and devout worshipper, con- 
stant in her attendance, even after her 
bodily intirmity rendered it less enjoy- 
able to her. She loved the Scriptures 
and welcomed the l:)est and freshest 
thought on Biblical doctrines. She could 
and did sift the chaff from the wheat. 
She did not as often as others speak of 
her ex})ericnce ; sometimes, in her quiet 
and touching way, said she had none. 
But all the time her heart was glowing 
with love to her Christ and her God, and 
her mind })lanning some new way of serv- 
ing him by serving those about her. She 
was thoroughly genuine and real in lier 
religious life. She abhorred all cant and 
sham and hypocrisy. To her mind, the 

* Miss Hanuah M. Neagle, died Sept. 27, 1895, 
at the age of 29 years. 



26 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

religion of Christ never needed apology. 
A religious profession might. The com- 
mon-sense view of religion that it was 
not intended to make our joys less, nor to 
take from our enjoyment of all that is 
true and l)eautiful in God's world, found 
a ready advocate in her. When of late 
years she talked with me of the unseen 
into which she was one day to enter, 
while her mind was perplexed over its 
mysteries, there was always the rejwse of 
spirit upon the Christian's hope and the 
Christian's heaven. 

What a cherished and unfading picture 
in the memories of all those who were 
ever privileged to enter its portals was 
that home which our dear friend made so 
attractive and beautiful. How eager was 
her desire to please in the entertainment 
of her guest, whether a stranger or friend. 
It was worth many a day's j(jurney to be 
welcomed in that dignitied and queenly 
manner so familiar to her friends, to sit 
in her presence and look into that silvery- 
crowned face from which the light of its 
" eto'nal summer shall never fade " from 
many lives, to listen to that conversation 
in which philosophy and the common-place, 



HANNAH P. DODGE. 27 

travel and avt, poetry and reminiscence, 
wit and reason, science and religion, were 
so wonderfully blended, to have the atten- 
tion turned to the fragrant blossom, the 
beautiful picture or the tinted sky, and 
after it all to be speeded on your way with 
the impression somehow formed, you knew 
not how, that she and not yourself was 
the favored one by your visit. And thus 
we shall think of her, and not as in the 
silence of death, until by and by Ave 
shall hope to meet again that beautiful 
soul which could make even the earthly 
features seem sometimes to shine with an 
almost heavenly radiance. 

And if our loss be great and so keenly 
felt, what must it be to the bereaved 
family, to whom this life came so near. 
They indeed may feel assured that many 
prayers ascend Jor them, and sincere sym- 
pathies from many hearts are shared with 
them in this sad separation. 

May our Heavenly Father in his merci- 
ful love comfort us, bear us up, grant 
unto us his shepherding care through all 
our life, and bestow upon us, in his Son 
Jesus Christ our Lord, those consolations 
and hopes which often comforted our de- 



28 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

parted friend, and which shall bring" us at 
last, one by one, into the light and peace 
and joy of eternal life and reunion in the 
heavenly mansions ; and may the memories, 
few or many, of all that Hannah Perkins 
Dodge was in her life and character never 
be blotted out of our minds, but remain 
from this day on to serve as a constant 
inspiration for all that is pure and elevat- 
ing, beautiful, charitalile and womanly, in 
Christian character. Many years ago Miss 
Dodge wrote the following poem, entitled, 
" Mors meane careat lacrymis," which may 
appropriately conclude this address : — 

Oh, who will weep when 1 am gone, 
Who will for me the fond tear shedV 

Will there be those who loved me well, 
To weep beside my dying bed? 

Among the crowd that greet me now 
With kindly smile or friendly woi'd, 

Oh, is there one my form will miss, 
One heart with grief for me be stirred? 

T would not seek the dark, cold grave, 

^Vith no one left to weep for me, 
T would not break all ties of earth. 

And ray last gaze no tear-drop see ! 

E'en Christian faith is not yet sight, 

Though Heaven my liome, the grave' s its way ; 

And who would plunge in Death's cold flood, 
With no loved voice to bid him stay ? 



HANNAH P. DODQE. 29 

Oh, dreary is the path I tread, 

Bittei-ed my cup of life with woe ; 
Oh, sad no hearts to mine so grown, 

That rent apart no tear will flow ! 

I would the flow'rs my hand should strew 
The plants of healing I should spread, 

Should thrive in blessed and faithful hearts, 
And drop their dews wlien I am dead. 

Grief for the loved no canker leaves. 
The mourning house robs not its guests. 

The softening tears from sorrow's fount 
Are blessings to our human breasts. 

The Man of Sorrows wept to see 

The ravages of sin and death, 
Wept when he saw the loved one's form 

With pulses stilled, and silent breath. 

I would not those I leave behind 
Should be by bread of sorrow fed. 

But oh ! I would not, cannot die, 
And think no one a tear will shed ! 

"Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord 
from henceforth : Yea, saith the Spirit, that they 
may rest from their labors; and their works do 
follow them." Amen. 



30 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 



TRIBUTES. 



"I have iievtT known a mure lielpful friend, or 
a fuller life, and it has been my privilege to be 
intimately acquainted with her from my childhood. 
8he was reticent in regard to lier spiritual life, but 
she loved goodness wherever she found it, and she 
never allowed difference of opinion to influence her 
friendships.'" — Miss Hannah S. Mead, Jamaica 
Plain, Ilass. 

''It is many years since I have had the pleasure 
of meeting Miss Dodge ; but whenever 1 saw her 
I learned something which was of value in the 
great interests of education. I know wiiat a loss 
she must be, not simply to the members of her 
own family, but to the community." — Edw^ard 
Everett Hale, Boxhnry, Mass. 

" It is a great pleasure to have my memory en- 
riched, not only by her later friendship, but by the 
unique image of that bright young life starting out 
from its somewhat isolated surroundings, and 
rapidly winning way to places of eminence. . . . 
Her ideal for those under her charge was as lofty 
as she held it for her own inspiration, nor was it 
ever lowered for the comfort of the lazy or in 
deference to mediocrity. Press on, press on, always 
seemed to be her motto." — Miss Sarah F. 
White, Littleton, Mass. 

" Miss Dodge had fine graces of character. To 
a pure and lieautiful life she most happily united 
modesty of manner, gentleness of spirit, and ear- 
nestness of liigh purpose. Her l)eautiful life has 



TRIBUTES. 31 

euded iu peace. Her home of culture aud ait re- 
calls such noble women as Celia Thaxter and Lucy 
Larcom. She has left the savor of a sweet life of 
Christian trust. She wore in life the humble yet 
exalted character of a saint of God, aud more and 
more will that character attacli to her sacred and 
precious memory. She was true to the sincere 
faith of her earlj^ years. She was genuinely cath- 
olic and as genuinely conservative. Her life is a 
strong testimony to the value of religion, a testi- 
mony she has sealed with lier deatli." — Rev. C. H. 
Spalding, Cambridffe, 3Iass. 

"Miss Dodge was a teaclier of uncomniou powers. 
Her very presence was a benediction to her pupils. 
She combined gracefulness with authority in such 
a degree that all in the classroom felt restrained 
from all that savored of disorder, and yet inspired 
with a sense of ease and self-possession. She was 
a thorough scholar, witli a happy faculty of im- 
parting what she knew. Her words were like 
apples of gold in pictures of silver. She impressed 
her own thoughts aud spirit upon the lives of her 
scholars in a remarkable manner. She taught 
them to think and I'eason for themselves and not 
to lean wholly upon their text liook. She had a 
high ideal of what it was to be a true scholar, and 
incorporated this idea in the minds of those who 
sought lier instruction. And above all. she taught 
by precept and example tliat all knowledge and 
all accomplishments should be for Christ and not 
for self." — Rev. AVm. H. Eaton, Naf^hua., A\ H. 

" Miss Dodge was a noble woman. She was 
loved and honored here in Colby Academy. She 
was held in warm esteem by all who knew lier. 
The world is poorer and heaven is richer in tlie 



32 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

death of this Christiau woman." — Eev. Geo. W. 
GiLE, President of Colby Academ;/, New London^N'.H. 

" Miss Dodge's name has loug been familiar iii 
our family. From the day when she established 
her famous school for girls at Codmau Hill — quite 
near us — we have known and lionored and loved 
her. . . . Her influence over her pupils was greatly 
increased by her ijersonal force of character, 
whicli, adorned as it was by culture, was particu- 
larly strong in its moral qualities. There was 
always a reserve of pure, spiritual enlightenment 
in the woman, a pleasing combination of grace 
;md strength, which made her not only the head of 
the school, but the personal guide and counsellor 
of her girls, who all felt that she stood to them in 
the place of a mother, tried and true. Let us hope 
that the town and the Commonw^ealth will long 
continue to produce such worthy types of woman- 
hood as we have known and esteemed in our 
departed friend." — Edward (I. Porter, I). D., 
Ashmont, Mass. 

"Miss Dodge was an intimate and valued friend 
of myself and my family for more than forty 
years. I have very highly prized her character 
and admired her career. From the first she aimed 
to rise and to attain eminence and usefulness in 
her profession. Beginning to teach in a district 
school when little more than a girl, she availed 
herself of every opportunity for enlarging her 
knowledge and elevating her standards. . . . 
Naturally she rose in her profession; and every 
advancement in position and opportunity was 
made the means of still further advancement in 
attainment and qualification. She had, in an emi- 
nent degree, professional and intellectual con- 



TRIBUTES. 33 

scientiousness ; she withheld nothing of study or 
labor by which she might make her instructions of 
greater value. Her intellectual sympathies were 
broad ; she embraced in the line of her thought 
and study, history, art, ethics, language, literature. 
Her high sense of the dignity of the teacher's pro- 
fession, and her conscientious desire to fulfll to 
the utmost its demands, and to leave nothing 
undone that might add to the richness of her 
stores, and to lier equipment in the art of impart- 
ing, characterized her in youth and in middle age, 
and I doubt not up to the close of her years as a 
teaclier. I also honored the public spirit which 
led her to accept the duties of superintendent of 
schools, and to discharge these duties with such 
conscientious fidelity. I cannot doubt that her 
eminently useful career was a part of the debt 
which Massachusetts owes to Horace Mann. Her 
ai'oused interest and ambition were no doubt a part 
of the result of the educational revival of w'hich 
he was so largely the means. She everywhere 
achieved success and usefulness as a teacher, and 
was an honor to the calling to which her entii-e 
life was devoted. 

Her life as a whole exliibits an eminent example 
of what may be obtained by a Xew England girl, 
who, with no extraordinary educational advan- 
tages, sets herself to making the most of herself 
and of her opportunities. I consider it a gi-eat 
honor that I and my family were numbered among 
her friends. She closes a life devoted to the wel- 
fare of her fellow beings, and especially of the 
young, and has gone to receive the reward of 
those who rest from their labors, and their works 
follow them."'— H. L. Wayland, D. D., Philadel- 
phia. 



S B LKCTI O NS 



FROM THE 



WRITl NGS 



HANNAH PERKINS DODGE. 



On tlie .seventy-fifth anniversary of the 
birth of Mi.ss Dodge, Fel). 16, 1896, 
a commemorative service was held in the 
Baptist meeting house, Littleton, Mass. 
At this service, in which all the Littleton 
churches united, Rev. L. B. Voorhees, of 
Groton, read the scriptures, and Kev. L 
F. Porter offered prayer. Rev. William 
J. Clones oave the address wdiich follows, 
and then occupied the rest of the time 
allotted for the service in reading selec- 
tions in prose and poetry from the Avrit- 
ings of Miss Dodire. These selections were 
gathered from her literary jiossessions, of 
which the greater part were left in manu- 
script. A large number of friends and rel- 
atives attended the sei'vice, to whom it was 
of the deepest interest and profit. The 
present volume was suggested during the 
preparation for this memorial meeting. 



A TEACHERS MESSAGE. 



ADDRESS BY THE REV. WILLIAM J. CLOUES. 

" She openeth her month with wisdom; and in lier 
tongue is the law of kindness." — Pkov. xxxi.26. 

Some lives are inspirations. They 
shine as stars. Their intiuenee never 
wanes, but increases with years. In their 
light we live to the accomplishment of 
noble actions. Their counsels while 
amona' the living, their works when thev 
are dead, guide us over many perilous 
pathways to high achievements ourselves. 
And it sometimes happens that however 
many and great their works during their 
lifetime, they are even more valued for 
what they accomplish afterwards in the 
hearts of those influenced In' them. One 
such life we commemorate to-night. Sev- 
enty-tive years ago to-day, Fcl>. H\, 1821, 
it began its bright and beautiful career. 
Some of you have been privileged to watch 
its growth upward, outward, onward, dur- 
ing all these years. You have known of 
its quiet ])eginnings, its eager outrcachings 
after wisdom and truth. You have seen 



38 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

the things dreamed of in maidenhood's 
thoughtful hour actually come to pass. 
You have seen it go from one success to 
another in its noble and glorious calling. 
This one would be a teacher, — a teacher, 
fully equipped, richly endowed, widely 
influential ; a Christian teacher of young 
women. True to this aim it went on, until 
in course of time, scores and hundreds 
of bright young pupils looked to Miss 
Hannah P. Dodge as one of the mightiest 
influences for the good, the true, the beau- 
tiful, wherever found, which ever entered 
their lives. 

And, as autumn grain under the farmer's 
skilful toil, it multiplied over and over 
again its usefulness and richness. The 
heights attained in maturity were as pro- 
phetic fulfilments of early resolutions and 
promises. The hope of l)ecoming was 
changed to the l)lessing of being. Faith- 
ful cultivation of mind and heart under 
her Divine Master's tuition bore at last 
that fine fruit of Christian character so 
well known to us all. Rare indeed it is 
to find a life so symmetrically fashioned. 
AVhat development of many talents ; what 
discipline of all its powers ; what grad- 



MEMORIAL ADDRESS. 39 

ual expansion of reason and imagination, 
taste and sensibility, judgment and con- 
science ! Do you wonder her pu})ils and 
friends thus wrote to her? " If my life is a 
success, it will be due to you.'" " You will 
always be young to me. I cannot think 
of you as growing old." " How thankful 
I am for the many lessons and words of 
counsel you have given me." " How grand 
your mission passed in supplying })arents" 
deficiencies and correcting their errors." 
" A conversation Avith you was like a 
tonic." " You were as a well-spring of 
mental inspiration to me." " How prized 
were your strong and spiritual talks to 
your pupils." 

And yet all this attainment and help- 
fulness came through much toil, pain, and 
self-denial. In 1842, at the end of her 
first three weeks at Town&.end as a scholar, 
she wrote to a friend, "My studies occupy 
almost all my time, and ought to my 
whole. I am so dull and stupid that I am 
obliged to study pretty hard, and as you 
are well aware that I have no genius to aid 
me, you will not be surprised." 

The effort and pains she took to grow 
in Christian grace and to possess a strong 



40 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

and useful character, is seen in these early 
resolutions : — 

"May 2, 1841. liesoJved, That I will be more 
conscientious in the performance of duty, that I 
will endeavor to give no one occasion to speak ill 
of ine, or of religion on iny account.'' 

" Oct. 24, 1S41. Besolved, That T will not ascribe 
unworthy motives for conduct of \Ahich I know 
nothing; that L will endeavor not even to think 
evil of others; that I will pi*ay against this easily 
besetting sin." 

In the summer of 1843 this })uri)ose is 
jotted down : "I will endeaA'or to im- 
prove every moment in the acquisition of 
knowled2e or otherwise improving my- 
self." 

And on the Sabbath, Jan. 16, 1<S48, 
while Principal of Townseud Seminary, 
she Avrote this meditation : — 

"The liest and indeed the only Avay for 
me to succeed in my labors in the seminary 
here is to give ujyself wholly to my work 
without thought of emoluments or what 
will be said or thought of my course. I 
must forget myself, my own reputation or 
my own labors, and la])or constantly, hum- 
bly, thoroughly, in whatever my hands find 
to do. If I do well, my reward of success 
is sure ; if ill, no exertion of mine to keep 



MEMORIAL ADDRESS. 41 

up appearance of well-doing will succeed. 
I feel sure that I shall meet with all the 
success in my labors as a teacher that I 
deserve. Oh, that I may ever be found 
walking- humbly and prayerfully before 
God, and be able full}^ to forget myself 
in my duties ! " 

As early as 1834 she began to draw and 
paint, and in 1836 to attempt English 
Composition as a mode for the expression 
of her thoughts. Even in these crude yet 
interesting productions there is some indi- 
cation of those talents which, after only 
twelve years have elapsed, are to place her 
at the head of the Townsend Female 
Seminary. 

In one of her first composition l)ooks 
there are attem})ts at composition on such 
sul)jects as "The Joys and Sorrows of the 
Teacher," "'Things to be Avoided in Man- 
ners," "The Fountain by the Roadside," 
" There is Beauty Everywhere," " The In- 
fluence of Education upon the Counte- 
nance." I will venture to quote, in })ass- 
ing, a few sentences from some of these 
first attempts in which there is much that 
is interesting. 

In one entitled " On the Comparative 



42 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

Value of Novels and Biography," she 
a{)pears as the defender of novels, con- 
tending that they furnish pleasure and 
relaxation, and form a good taste for 
Avriting or speaking. And thus concludes 
this early piece of writing : " I am not a 
professed novel reader, and on this ground 
I hope that some of my faults in writing 
will be pardoned." 

In the same year, 183(), there is a short 
essay on the Indian, in which this occurs : 
" ' If lion could paint,' said this monarch 
of the forest, ' instead of pictures of men 
killing lions, you would see those of lions 
killing men.' So with the Indian ; if they 
could write, instead of stories of Indians 
killing white men, we might read those of 
white men killing Indians." From another 
essay of the same date, written fifty years 
ago, I cull these two sentences : " The 
teacher should be superior to the scholar, 
to teach him with advantage." " If one 
person is well educated, it does not make 
another less so." 

These compositions, increasing in inter- 
est and successfulness, were upon many 
subjects : "Early Rising," "Can Gold gain 
Friendship?" "The Price of a Lasting 



MEMORIAL ADDRESS. 43 

Fame," " The Mind is the Standard of the 
Man," "The Death of Cain," "Schools," 
"Five Minutes too Late," "The Mind ca])- 
able of Infinite Progression," "The Tri- 
umphs of Truth," " The Scriptures of 
God," "History," "Progress of Educa- 
tion," " Learning for its own Sake," 

••The spirit walks of every day deceased, 
And smiles au angel, or a fury frowns,'* 

"Nil mortalibus arduum est." 

From the time Miss Dodge l)ecanie Prin- 
cipal of Townsend Seminary, until within 
a few years of her death, she continued to 
develop her skill and talent in writing. 
Some of these literary attempts, especially 
in poetry, were for her own eye alone ; 
others for a variety of occasions. She 
wrote poems, hymns, colhxiuies (on the 
avocations of women and favorite histori- 
cal women), addreses to her })upils, trans- 
lations in verse, lectures, letters of travel, 
humorous sketches, brief essays on many 
suljjects for the Lesbian Society and the 
Reading Circle, for the Oreadum, the 
Revolving Light, the Colby Voice, the 
Watchman, the National Baptist, and 
other papers. But whatever the nature 



44 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

of the liteniry work in luuul, Miss Dod<2;e 
regarded it as secondary to her work as a 
teacher. The principal :nni of her hie 
was to teach, not to write. But while this 
aim in no way detracted from the power of 
her reasoning, the strength of her thought 
or the vigor of her imagination, it must, 
however, be kept in mind that she did not 
herself claim for any of her productions 
unusual literary merit. Still, she never 
ceased to regard all of them with peculiar 
interest as being the genuine expression 
of the changing moods of her spirit, and 
some of them as the utterance of her 
highest thought and a part of her l)est 
life. 

Her choice of word and phrase, the 
loftiness of her thought and beauty of 
her style, the variety and suggestiveness 
of her writings, render them of more than 
ordinary value to young people. They 
are a precious heirloom to her friends, and 
will make many new friends among those 
who come to a knowledge of them ; for 
they reprove listlessness and inactivity, 
awake to thoughtfulness and investiga- 
tion, and by their swift and piercing 
spiritual insight stir to devotion and en- 



MEMORIAL ADDRESS. 45 

deavor tow aids the highest life we can 
live. They show in every way and al- 
ways the strong influence of Christian 
thought over her own mind and heart, 
and point always to that life which was 
revealed to the world in the coining of the 
Christ. She desired to live, and sought 
to have others live, the life of a devoted 
and loyal Christian. 

How widely her influence as a teacher 
extended is seen in the fact that during a 
period of over thirty-live years she taught 
classes in Groton, Littleton, Townsend, 
Boston, Worcester, Dorchester, Norfolk, 
Va., Kalamazoo, Mich., and New London, 
N. H., and was Lady Princi[)al in five 
important educational institutions. The 
remarkably synnnetrical development of 
her mind and the variety of its powers is 
made evident l)y the statement that at 
different times during this period she 
tauo'ht the folio wins; branches of learning : 
Rhetoric, English Conn)osition, Alge))ra, 
Physical Geography, Chemistry, Geol- 
ogy, Astronomy, Botany, Latin, German, 
Italian, English Literature, Drawing and 
Painting, Political Economy, Evidences 
of Christianity, Butler's Analogy, Paley's 



46 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

Naturiil Theology, Mental and iSIoral 
Philosophy. It is surely no common ex- 
perience to tind such widely different 
branches of study successfully taught l)y 
the same teacher. And her ability to 
teach them was a far more signiticant fact 
thirty or fort}' years ago than it would be 
to-day. 

She had also the eye of the artist and 
poet for everything ])eautiful. An artist 
herself, whether she painted in oil or water- 
color, u})on silk or china, her work, 
especially in her favorite subjects, land- 
scapes and Howers, was characterized by 
its delicacy of touch, its })urity of color, 
and its careful linish. 

But I have detained you by this tribute 
already too long ; for, in planning this ser- 
vice, I was desirous that you should share 
with me the rich and rare privilege of 
having our dearly beloved friend speak to 
us out of her own writings, — a teacher's 
message. This will tell us far l)etter of 
her life and character. This will show far 
better than I can describe them the nature 
and variety of her gifts. This will speak 
to us of her eager search for wisdom and 
her thirst for truth, the treasures of her 



MEMORIAL ADDRESS. 47 

mind, her devotion to her calling, the 
purity of her heart, the keenness of her 
spiritual vision, her sources of strength 
and i)ower, her love for her Hea\^enly 
Father, the true nobility and lieauty of 
her inspiring life. And if her message 
shall have that influence over you which it 
has already had over so many lives in the 
past, — Miss Dodge, if this commemoration 
ever comes to her knowledge, and he who 
reverently and gratefully pays this tribute 
to her greatness, will again before the 
face of God thank him for his bountiful 
gifts to this rare and beautiful soul amonir 
the children of men, and ascribe all praises 
to him forever. 



SELECTIONS IN POETRY. 



OH! I WOULD LIVE IN VISIONS! 

On ! I would live in visions ! grant me visions 

bright and fair, 
Grant me to live in other worlds wliere I *d be free 

fi'om care. 
I'd clothe in l)rilliaiit rainbow hues all the dull 

scenes of life ; 
I "d dance with elves iu fairy rings with pleasure 

ever rife. 

If happiness can ue"er l)e found, oh ! whj' refuse 

to dream, 
And picture many hapi)y scenes while sailing down 

life's stream. 
And if the dream be all a dream, why, let me dream 

again ; 
1 "d rather dream of being blest, than be alive to 

pain. 

Oh ! I would live in visions higli ! \-isions of per- 
fect bliss, 

And I would find in spirit land the lioou denied 
in this. 

I 'd talk with beings fair and l)right on ev'ry hill 
and dale ; 

I "d listen to the nuirmuriug tones of many a 
wondrous tale. 



50 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

I "d see a fairy iu a flower, a naiad iu tlie stream ; 
I 'd hear tlie zepliyr's whispered tale, 't would not 

be all a dream, 
rd hear the words the thunder gpeaks, aud what 

the whirlwind tells ; 
I'd list the music of the spheres like chime of 

ev'ning bells. 

Then let me live in visions I live in visions briiiht 

and fair ! 
Let me but soar above the earth and dwell in 

realms of air; 
Let me forget all care awhile aud e"en in dreams 

be blest. 
Since we who travel life's rou,ii;h way in visions 

can tind rest. 184.5-.t(). 



ALL THINGS SPEAK TO ME. 
I LOVE the fresli and balmy air 

Tliat breathes o"er hill and lea, 
That fans my brow aud waves my hair ; 

Tt speaks to me. 

I love the clear aud joyous light, 

That streams o'er earth and sea, 

That decks the sky in beauty bright ; 
It speaks to me. 

1 love the clouds in mountains piled. 

Or floating light and free. 
And when they frown in tempests wild ; 

They speak to me. 

I love the forest's solenm tone. 

Its wild, demoniac glee. 
Its laugh of joy, or sorrow's moan; 

It speaks to me. 



POEMS. 51 

I love the wild bird's uiellow sougs, 
That burst from shrub aud tree, 

While echo every note proloags ; 
It speaks to me. 

I love the cup of dewy Hower, 

I seem its smile to see, 
Aud all its trausitory hour ; 

It speaks to me. 

I love to gaze in silence deep 

(ju helpless iufaucy, 
Aud while the augels vigil keep. 

It speaks to uie. 

I love the stars, the sea, the laud ; 

Tho' full of mystery, 
Their voice I seeui to uudei'staud — 

All speak to lue. 1848. 



ALL THINGS SMILE. 

When tills the heart with joy aud hope, 
Aud peace expauds the brow, 

Wheu love the uature hath su1)limed, 
Aud lofty tliougiits endow. 

All uature sends a kind response 

From every form she owns, 
Reflects our smiles with loving face, 

Keturns our joyous tones. 

Skies, earth aud sea, with smiling eye, 

Look down into the soul, 
W^lile draughts of gladness we may quatf, 

More sweet tlian nectared bowl. 



52 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

The birds laugh forth their soug f>f glee; 

The flocks and herds accoi-d ; 
Each human face smiles happily. 

And work with joy is stored. 

Then, radiant Peace, illume my soul. 

And Hope and Joy and Love, 
'Till all my thoughts are beautiful 

With brightness from above. n 



NATURE. 

A SPIRIT ))reatlies from ott' this scene 

Of quiet, cahn rei)ose, 
And floats in mist of silvery sheen 

Which round its drapery throws. 

A voice comes from the woodland wild, 

A voice of meaning deep ; 
It calls a])Ove the earth-born child, 

It bids tierce passion sleep. 

Oh, let me soar in thought away, 

Obey th" inviting voice, 
And burst the bonds of cum'brous clay, 

With Nature's soul rejoice. 

My soul would float in sunbeams bright 

Upon the wavy air. 
Drink rapture from th' enchanting sight. 

Of angels pure and fair. 

I see them now, I feel their power. 

My spirit leaves her clay : 
Celestial radiance gilds the hour, 

I soar with them away. 1S45-47 



POEMS. 53 



THE IDEAL IN NATURE. 

What is the earth V A dull, cold, lifeless tliiu^-: 
The cloudy sky hangs o'er its leadeu wing ; 
The ocean tosses with a sullen roar 
Its angry waves upon a rocky shore. 

The forests frown, and toss their threat'ning arms. 
The bogs and ditches lie devoid of charms. 
The hills their jagged, unformed fronts oljtrudc 
The plains stretch out a weary longitude. 

Lo ! this is all the man of sense beholds ; 
Nature to him no charm or grace unfolds ; 
But to the man of soul nought is all real, 
All nature's forms are rol)ed in bright ideal. 

Earth's features rude, gleam with the light of life, 
And trees and flowers with springs of joy are rife ; 
The birds and insects sing a song of glee, 
And beasts and creeping things hold jubilee. 

The radiant sky reflects the smile of God ; 
His voice, the ocean's roar and thunder loud ; 
The tall trees giants seem, by him endowed. 
The trembling pilgrim safely to o'er shroud. 

1S47-4S. 



SMILES OF EDEN. 

The preacher at church, in the sermon to-day. 
Said, Eden from earth had long since passed away 
Said, Paradise fled at tlie first man's foul sin, 
And sorrow and death had since then entered iu. 



54 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

The preacher was right hi his words of to-day, 
For Paradise long has from earth passed away, 
But lingering it casts its sweet smiles all around. 
On hillside, on glen, and on mountain they're found. 

They gleam from the sky in the evening's bright 

hue. 
When scarlet and gold softly blend with tlie blue; 
When peep out the stars lilce the eye of a bride, 
And th" moon leads her train in lier matronly pride. 

They shine on the brow of the innocent child 
When joyful in sports his loud laugh rings out wild ; 
The angels oft speak to his unspotted heart. 
Where malice and envj^ not yet find a i)art. 

They 're felt in the union of true loving souls. 
And brighten, like sunlight, life's threatening 

shoals ; 
They glow in the glance of the child's trusting love 
He caught from the liost of pure spirits above. 

And smiles from In'ight Eden are seen when the sire 
Is kneeling at morn with devotion's pure tire. 
And prays the l)lest Spirit on loved ones to rest. 
And fill the desires of eaeli supjdiant l)reast. 

Yes, traces of Eden are seen all around; 

They gleam from the sky and are strewn on the 

ground ; 
They dwell in the lieart and tliey rest on the brow; 
Oh! Eden's fair flowers are blossoming now! 

]84.>-47. 



POEMS. 55 



WRITTEN ON A SPRING-LIKE DAY IN MID 
WINTER. 

On! the bright buds of Hope that are swelling 
From the depths of the dreamy mist, 

Aud the sweet springs of joy that are welling 
From the earth that the sun has kissed. 

For the Queen of the Spring is a-smiling, 
Through the chill of the winter's snows, 

And our hearts with a promise l)eguiliug, 
While a glimpse of her face she shows. 

For she whispers of soft April showers, 

Of the flowers of May and June, 
Of the fragrant and green summer l)owers, 

With the birds and bree/.es in tune. 

And her smile is the storm Iving subduing. 

And his voice to a love note tamed ; 
Oh I prolonged be the hours of their wooing, 

And her power be long maintained I 

For with rapture our bosoms are beating, 
As the spring looks forth from the sky. 

Though we know that the glaiu'e nmst be fleeting. 
Till the winter's long reign goes by. 

Jan. s, 1s.")5. 



SONG OF THE INDIAN SUMMER SPIRITS. 

Dreamily, blissfully, floating along, 
Pillowed on zephyrs aud lulled by their song. 
Coming from homes in the isles of the blest. 
Breathing o'er mortals the i)erfume of rest. 



56 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

Down thr(jugh the inist.s of the soft wavy air. 
Suusliiue of Eden, we smile on your care, 
Telling of realms where all sorrow shall cease, 
Jjulliiig all spirits from turmoil to peace. 

(Joining to earth ere the death of the year, 
Like a bright vision the dying to cheer, 
Promising spring when the winter is gone. 
Showing a glimpse of the hastening dawn. 

Dreamily, blissfully, float we away, 

Wooed by your longings we gladly would stay ; 

Tarried we only that visions of rest 

Cheei- your sjid hearts from the isles of the blest- 

Nov. 7, ]8.i7. 



THE LOVER'S JUBILATE. 

BEAUTIFUL, beautiful world ! 
Sunbeams are flashing. 
Waters are dashing, 
Birds sweet are singing. 
Heaven's arch is ringing 

With the beauty and music of earth. 

O beautiful, beautiful life ! 
Joys are upspringing, 
Hopes bright are singing, 
Faith's wings are soaring, 
Love is adoring; 

Oh, the bliss and the rapture of life! 



June '21, \S^~. 



POEMS. 57 



THE ORGAN. 

Now the temple's walls are raised, 
Now the shelt'ring roof is clone, 

Points the spire to God the praised, 
Open doors invite to come. 

Human hearts with love are swelling 
To the God of earth and lieaveu ; 

Human tongues are eager telling 
Of the blessings he has given. 

But not only creatures living 
To his praise their tribute bring : 

Senseless matter, too, is giving 
Honor to the heavenly King. 

For the organ's tones are pealing, 
And we breathe its breath of praise ; 

Through the aisles and arches stealing, 
Stones and wood an anthem raise. 

Soft, anon, the strain is telling- 
All the sinner's grief and woe : 

All the deep emotion welling 
When the contrite boweth low. 

All the struggling, all the anguish. 
All the gloomy doubts and fears, 

AVheu the fainting soul doth languish, 
And no voice of comfort hears. 

Sweetly now melodious numbers 
Come like sunshine through the shower, 

Like new life from death's dark slumbers, 
Like bright Hope in Sorrow's hour. 



58 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

Peace ;md Love are softly wreathing- 
Sweetest strains ot deep delio-ht, 

And we husli our very bi-eathinii;, 
Awed before the organ's niii;ht. 

Now more rapturous tones are pealing 

All harmonious on the ear, 
Joys of Paradise revealing, 

No discordant grief or fear. 

Ceased the strain, yet, soaring, sinking. 

Hovers yet in fancy round ; 
Wondrous is the organ, linking 

Deepest thought with solemn sound ! 

August, 1855. 



RECANTATION. 



Again I seize the lyre, 

Too long its strings are mute ; 

Now move with minstrel's fire. 
My eager heart, my lute : 

Of "visions high'" speak, speak again. 

That in my soul have dwelt ; 
"High purpose" sound in bolder strain 

That this weak heart hath felt. 

Repeat the thoughts that scald my brain, 

That drink my spirit's life : 
Vibrate to wretchedness and pain, 

To life's fierce toil and strife. 

Inspire with purpose dutiful. 

And yearnings for the good, 
With meltings at the beautiful 

In river, sky, and wood. 



POEMS. 59 

Be silent when the si)irit land 

Its wonders sliows to me ; 
Be silent while th' auo;elic band 

Reveal Heaven's harmony. 

Let, O xny lyre, this aching heart 

Vent its wild throRs on thee ; 
When tears from my pressed eyelids start 

Oh, come to comfort me. 

And when I rise to smile on Fate, 

And the good an^'els reign, 
When Love on smiling- Peace doth wait. 

Oh, then send forth thy strain. 

1848. 



TO A STAR. 



Unmeasured the path to that dim distant star, 
How faint is its light that beams cold from afar; 
Tho' long is the way tliat mild star l)eam has 

trod. 
It has spoken to me of the power of God. 

It shines in my heart and enkindles a flame 
That lightens life's trackless and uncertain main ; 
It tells me that He wlio has guided this beam 
Will direct all my way howeVr dark it may seem. 

Oil, then I '11 cast doubting and sorrow away, 
I '11 think when 't is night of the soon coming day ; 
I *11 trust in the God who is mighty to save 
From the trials of earth and the power of the 
grave. 

1845-48. 



60 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 



THOUGHTS AT EVENTIDE. 

I AM uloiie — no sound of Imnian voice, 

Or gentle footstep, falls upon my ear 

To tell me aught else lives, and nature's calm 

Hath entered my lone heftrt. The mellow light 

Hath spread its splendor where so oft the storm 

Or whirlwind reigned ; the misty evening air 

Waves gently now with balmy fragrance in 

Its light embrace, and 1 am all alone. 

Yet not alone can the free spirit be 

At such an hour. Methinks I see the dear, 

Sweet countenance of friends, those whom my 

heart 
Holds dear, now look on me with shadowy yet 
Familiar eyes ; the gaze of soul into 
Its kindred soul, without a veil between. 

I 'm not alone — for pillowed on the air, 
Or sporting free in joj'ous harmonj^, 
Are myriads of spirits all around. 
Who beckon me from sordid earthliness. 
I *m not alone I another Spirit 's here ! 
The Comforter, the Holy Influence 
That leads me to adore and humbly bow. 
My spirit melts ; the sun among the stars 
Eclipses all, — God, God alone is here. 
And friends and spirits all are lost in him. 

1845-48. 



FROM MY HEART — A MOOD. 

How longs my lonely soul for sympathy ! 
Oh, for a friend of mine in whose kind ear 
I might pour out the secrets of my heart ! 



POEMS. 61 

My feeliugs leap and long for utterance. 

There is no kindred soul to whom I may 

Unfold the longings of my saddened heart. 

Sometimes I do forget, and speak myself. 

But no one lists to me — tliey say I dream 

When telling them of my realities. 

No one I meet who understands. Perhaps 

The fault is mine, for I do fear mankind, 

And I have almost learned to wear the mask 

Which the unthinking world do ever wear. 

Sometimes I tliink that I am not myself. 

And listen to the old philosophers 

Who taught that such a fancy might ))e true. 

But still I feel that I am all alone ; 

No heart with mine in blessed sympatliy 

Doth beat. Some tliink me wise, and many more 

Brand fool, or one they ne'er can comprehend: 

When I am sjid, some loss of paltry gold 

Is guessed to be the cause, and when I smile 

It is because some fool has smiled on me. 

But these things are — and true philosophy 

Doth sternly bid me take the ills of life. 

" Tlie ills of life " have never reached me yet ; 

But mine are sorrows of tlie inmost soul 

For which the wordlings ne'er have found a name. 

Sometimes Ambition rules with iron rod. 

And bids me stand upon the heights of fame. 

I long for fame, for love, and for applause ; 

Receiving none, I mourn in secret place. 

I care not for the praise of stolid fools. 

Or undeserved applause from any lip ; 

But I 'd deserve the love of great and good. 

And strive to merit what may be withheld. 

Ambition gives but to destroy bright hopes 

Till, wearied with lier wiles, her subjects seek 

For some lone wilderness where human foot 



62 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

Hath ne'er disturl)e(l the fresh, unlingered moss. 
To live and die uulinown. But oli, I wisli 
To wear the favored sehohir's well-earned wreatli : 
To search the liidden lore of ages through, 
And claiming Virtue, AVisdom, as my friend. 
My guide, live Ivnown to Fame, or hidden in 
My lone retreat, — my soul will ask no more. 

May, 1848. 



THE RIDE. 



Give me my fleet and comely steed, 

My jetty steed for me ; 
With flowing mane o'er curved neck. 

And nostril spreading free. 

I list to his impatient lioof , 

He calls me with his neigh; 
He longs, as I, to slip the noose, 

And ]i()und in glee away. 

He curbs hi.s spirit wliile I mount, 
Then chafes and spurns the rein, 

And, sportive, thi-eats to throw me hence. 
And laughs to And it vain. 

Now let us hound, yiy steed, away 
From homes of care-worn men ; 

We'll seek free spirits like our own 
O'er hills or shaded gleii. 

Oh, give me, then, my sable steed, 
That dear loved steed for me, 

With flowing mane and curved neck. 
And nostril spreading free. 



POEMS. 63 



WHAT IS MAN? 

A LONELY pilgrim on ;i desert drear, 
Wearied and sad, oppressed with nameless fear, 
Hung'ring and thirsty, no oasis near; 
Such, such is man ! 

A trembling slave in iron fetters bound, 
Whom tyrant masters trample to the ground. 
Helpless to heed bright Freedom's joyful sound; 
Such, such is man I 

A toil-worn hiborer "neath a crushing load, 
Climl)ing at noon a steep and rocky road, 
Where ne'er the streams of joy or lio])e have 
flowed ; 
Sucli, such is man I 

A soldier, constant 'mid tlie battle's roar. 
Who long has fouglit, nor e'er the victory bore, 
Who dares not hope the strife will e'er be o'er ; 
Such, such is man ! 

A prophet who can read his liast'niug doom. 
Who sees before liim but the j^awning tomb, 
And scarcely there tlie bones of friends make 
i-oom ; 
Such, such is man ! 

Heaven's heir is man, the loving God, when known. 
Will bear his load, adopt him as his own, 
Clothe him in kingly robes, place on his throne ; 
Even such is man I 

lSf)2. 



64 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 



THE PAUPER'S FUNERAL. 

Now the last rites are said, 
To his cold, narrow bed 

Bear him away. 
Fierce blows the wiutry l)last. 
Snow wreaths around are cast, 

But speed your way. 

Oft in his life uublest, 
Longed he for place of rest, 

Bear ye him on. 
No friend will bid you stay. 
Bear the ])Oor man away 

Ei-e set of sun. 

Hope once his heart beguiled. 
And love upon him smiled. 

Life's scenes were bright. 
Hope turned her face away, 
Love lived but one short day. 

And then was night! 

From heart to heart he turned, 
For each his spirit yearned, 

But all were dumb. 
Then lone, deserted, drear, 
AVaited some word of cheer 

Till death should come. 

But, earth's best glories shorn. 

Then heavenly joys were born. 

Stars gemmed his night. 

To-day for him no stars ; 

Heaven's golden gate unbars 

And floods their light. 

June 20, 1857 



POEMS. 65 



MORNING HYMN. 

To tliee, ouv Father, would we bring 

Our first glad song- of praise ; 
Thou hast the gloomy night dispelled 

And sent the morning rays. 

AVith morn's glad light come cheering hopes, 

And swell the exulting soul ; 
We bless thy kind, indulgent hand, 

Dispenser of tlie whole. 

Our skies no clouds or darkness show, 

But rainbow hues instead ; 
Fresh flowers with fragrant beautj^ strew 

The path wherein we ti-ead. 

And when our sun lias run liis course. 

And shut the gates of day, 
May those of heavenly homes invite 

Our wearied spirit's stay. 

TOWNSENI), 1852. 



EVENING HYMN. 

Thus far upon Life's winding way 
Have clouds and sunshine marked the day,- 
Forward, the path seems rough and steep, 
And older pilgrims mourn and w^eep. 

They tell of dangers tliey 've passed by, 
And warn us of destruction nigh ; 
The thorn and noxious herb they show. 
The lofty crags and pitfalls low. 



66 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

Kiud Father, take us bj- the hand, 
And lead us through this frowning laud; 
Let us not lone in darkness roam, 
Wliile seeking for our heavenly home. 

From Pleasure's tlowers turn us aside, 
From riches, honor, fame, and jjride : 
May " Wisdom's way " our souls allure, 
And grant us wealth which shall endure. 

And when grim Death our frame awaits, 
May angels open th' pearly gates ; 
May our blest si^irits enter in 
Where dwells no sorrow, death, nor siu. 

TOWNSEND, 185-2. 



SONG. (Inscribed to J. T.) 

How pure and delightful the pleasure 

These happy young faces to see ! 
How better tlian gold or rich treasure 

The echo of ghid tones of glee! 

There 's naught upon earth that can move us 
Like childhood's approaches to bliss ; 

The angels in bright groups above us 
See nothing more lovely than this. 

How blest are the hearts that remember 
To whom much is given must giA'e, 

And they who with open hands render 
To God again gifts they receive. 

May blessings of Heaven attend him. 
His heart, and his home, and his gold, 

Who blesseth the children, whose angels 
Do always the Father behold. isiiS. 



POEMS. 



67 



THE HOURS, PAST, PRESENT, AND FUTURE. 

Tableau and Recitation at Codman Hill, 
July 10, 1863. 

(Sur/gexted hi/ ii I'lcture in ihe Providence Athenmum.) 

Present. All of joy I briug with me, 
Ouly ill my smile ye live ; 
In iny hatid all blessings see, 
From my stores all good receive. 

Future. Joyous hopes with me reside. 

All the light of coming years ; 
Ne'er with me doth grief abide, 
Ne'er with me are sighs and tears. 

Past. In my treasury, garnering all. 

Hold T all that lite has given; 
Ne'er from me in vain ye call 

Scenes of bliss and hours of heaven. 



Future. All the Past is drear and dead, 
Pi'esent joys are quickly lied ; 
Still the Future lieckons one, 
"Live ye in to-morrow's sun." 

Present. Clouds may veil the morrow's sun, 
Hopelessly the Past is done ; 
Ouly je the Now possess, 
Onlv I mav reallv bless. 



Past. Griet and pain the Present bears, 

Frowns the Future often wears ; 
Gather from my stores with skill, 
Leave all sorrow, if ye will. 



68 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

Present. All the treasures of past ages, 

Borne aloug with mighty power, 
All the Future bright presages 
Join to crown the Present hour. 

Past. By the Past the Present standeth, 

By the Past the Future gleams ; 
Xe'er the Past its force disbandeth, 
Ne'er are quenched its setting beams. 



Future 



All. 



Past and Present from me drawing. 

Gatlier life from age to age ; 
All Eternity's enjoying 

Seek ye in my 0])eniug page. 



Ne'er can meet we sisters three, 
Daughters of Eternity ; 
Ne'er can view a sister's face, 
Pausing in our endless race. 
We each other's voices hear 
Calling from afar and near ; 
Ne'er on common ground we stand, 
Yet are clasping hand in hand. 
Time shall end, earth cease to be. 
Yet shall live we sisters three. 



SONG FOR REUNION OF THE NORTH SCHOOL, 

LITTLETON, MASS. 

TUNK, — " Aulil Lantf Syne." 

SiiOUUiJ North School comrades be forgot, 

And days when we were young? 
Should North School mem'ries fade awayV 

And ne'er l)e told or sung"? 



POEMS. 69 

Chorus. — B'or old North School, iin- friends, 
For old North School ; 
We '11 tnke each other by the liaiid. 
For old North School. 

We long have roamed about the world, 

And ta'eu our share of toil : 
We've wandered many a weary mile 

Since on our native soil. 
Chorus. — For old North School, etc. 

AVe will not pledge iu brimming cup 

Of treacherous, maddening wine. 
But here 's a hand, my trusty friend, 

Gi'e us a hand of tliine. 
Chorus. — For old North School, etc. 



THE ERL KING. 

(From file Geniuni.) 

The Erl Kiiif; ie a mischievous and malignant being in the 
mythology of the ancient Germans: This piece is the open- 
ing of one of Goethe's operas. 

Who rides so late iu this temi)est so wild? 

'T is the bold father bra^•es the dark night with his 

child. 
His fond arm is strong, aud no fear dims his eye, 
Safe holds he the boy as homeward they fly. 

" My son, what fear'st thou, \\\\\ hid'st tlu)u thy 

sightV' 
" O father! look forth iu the deep of the night; 
The Erl King ! the Erl King ! with train and with 

crown ! " 
" The evening mist's gloom iu the distance, my 

son.'' 



70 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

" Tliou dciir child, tliou fair child, oh. come, ^'o 

with me ; 
Mauy beautiful games will I play there with thee; 
For thee my bright flowers their hues will unfold, 
And my mother will deck thee in garments of 

gold.'" 

"My father! my father! Glisten! Ohear! 
What the Erl King promises low in my ear ! '" 
" Be quiet, be quiet, my dear little child, 
In the old oaks but rustles the winter wind wild !j" 

"Come! wilt thou, my dear boy, now go to my 

home? 
My daughter will watch thee, and with thee will 

roam ; 
For thee fairy revels she nightly will keep, 
She shall rock thee, and sing thee, and dance thee 

to sleep." 

" My father ! my father ! and see'st thou not there 
His daughter's dark form in the thick gloomy 

air?" 
" My son, yes, my sou, I see it now clear; 
'Tis the old willows gray in the darkness appear." 

"I love thee, umst have thee, as have thee I may; 
I '11 snatch thee, I '11 bear thee with me far away." 
" My father ! my father ! he 's doing me harm ! 
The Erl King will tear me away from thy arm." 

The ))old father shudders, he spurs on his steed, 
While trembles the child in his arms like a reed; 
He reaches his cottage, with terror and dread, 
And the beautiful boy in his arms is dead. 

June. ISud. 



POEMS. 71 



MY GOLD AND MY JEWELS. 

(From the (ieriiKiii.) 

In plenty 1 have gold, — 'tis the glorious dear 

sunshine, 
As it glimmers through my window, — it is mine, 

wholly mine. 

How wonderful and liow noble is this my solar 

gold ! 
It brings to me no trouble and no lear of robber 

bold. 

It doth warm me, it doth light me in my heart's 

deepest vein, 
And when it shimmers friendly it comforts every 

pain. 

In my dark and gloomy soul it brings the radiant 

day. 
From the weeping morning flowers it doth kiss 

the tears away. 

These flowers spring up for me in their gorgeous 

colors bright, 
Their pure and fragrant beauty is the joyous 

Spring's delight. 

From the sungold and the pearls in the still and 

solemn night — 
"We say it is the dew — are the lovely flowers 

bedight ; 

And their jewels of tine pearls and of fragrant 

gold are wrought. 
Which, in dreamy slumber deep, to the flower 

world are brought. 



72 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

With such jewels I oftthnes do my huinl>le head 

adorn, 
And in tliem I ain richer tliiiu u prince to splendor 

born. 

Then my wealth is always fruitful, it never fails 

in store, 
For the flower jewels splendid eacli spring Imngs 

to my door. 

THE IDEAL. 

( From Schil/er.) 

So, faitiiless, wilt thou hence depart, 

With all thy friendly visions bright, 
With all thy sorrows, all thy joys. 

And ne"er retrace tliy distant flight? 
Can naught restrain thy winged car 

O golden hours of youth's gay dream? 
In vain 1 call — thy waters clear 

Haste to Eternity's dark stream. 

Extinguished are the stars of hope, 

Which sparkled o'er my youthful way. 
The visions of ideal good 

That once could my weak heart betray ; 
Departed is the sweet, fond trust 

My youthful dream in Being gave, — 
Life's beauty and divinity 

[n the rough Actual And their gnive. 

As once with fervent, longing jtrayer, 

Pygmalion to the statue knelt, 
Until the glow of life and love 

On the cold cheek of marble dwelt; 
So with an eager, youthful love, 

Enshrined I Nature in my breast, 
ITutil she breathed, she warmed with life. 

At the bold poet's high ))ehest. 



P0EM8. 73 

Kewardiug then my ardeut zeul, 

E'eu Silence found herself a tonoiie, 
Gave back to me my kiss of love, 

Responded as my pulses rung'. 
Then "-lowed with life the tree, the flower, 

Then sani>; to me the bright cascade ; 
All senseless things had found a soul 

Which echoed all my fancy made. 

So from one struggling, conciuering l)reast 

The single soul to all \\ent forth, 
With faith in all that life jjortrayed 

Of purpose high and deeds of worth. 
A spacious world in his high dreams, 

As shrouded in the embryo rolled ; 
Alas ! how slow to his bright hopes 

Did all its hidden powers unfold. 

No sad reverse as yet had curbed 

The youth upon his path of life ; 
Blessed was he still in blissful dreams, 

Winged with bold zeal he souglit the strife. 
E'en to the stars in ether pure 

The swarms of his designs uprt)se, 
And naught so high and naught so far 

Which could his restless flight oppose. 

How lightly was he borne along ; 

What shadow glooms on Fortune's child 1 
How danced before his triumph car 

The airy train with pleasure wild I 
Love, smiling to his longing gaze. 

Fortune, with wreath of golden light, 
Fame, with her crown of fadeless stars, 

And Trutli, with rol»es of sunshine bright. 



74 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

But lo ! the goal uot half attained, 

Dispersed were his companions gay ; 
Too soon tliey turned their faithless steps, 

And one by one they fled away. 
Fortune departed, light of foot, 

And, as his thirst of knowledge grew. 
Thick clouds of gloomy doul)t concealed 

The sunny form of Truth from view. 

1 saw the sacred crown of Fame 

Upon the vulgar ))row, profaned, 
And all too quick the springtime gone. 

When Love witli witching smiles remained. 
More still, more lone, the scene became, 

And steeper grew the rough ascent, 
While scarce one glimmering ray of hope 

My path its friendly radiance lent. 

Of all the l)ustliug I'etinue 

Which by me stood the journey through V 
Which travelled, trusting, by my side. 

E'en with the gates of death in viewy 
Friendship, with thy soft, gentle hand, 

"Twas thou who healedst every wound. 
W^ho, loving, halt life's burden bore, 

Thou, whom I early sought and found! 

And thou, who joined with Friendship's halm, 

As it my spirit's storm had calmed. 
Blest Labor, with thy slow rewards. 

Hast all my weary moments charmed; 
Thou, from eternity's vast store. 

Dost grant us only grain l)y grain. 
Yet from the mighty debt of time. 

Minutes, and days, and years dost drain. 

April il, ]S5h. 



SELECTIONS IN PROSE. 



TALKS TO HER PUPILS. 

I. — Self-Govern ME NT. 

"Order is Heaveii'^^ first law." We see 
this great princi})le prevailing everywhere 
throughout the works of the Great Archi - 
tect. Everything has its due dependence 
<jn some other part of creation. We see 
sj^stem within system, and sequence 
linked with sequence, and all moving on 
in the most perfect harmony. There is 
no confusion among the heavenly bodies 
by planets or suns wandering from their 
courses. The idea that all the systems of 
worlds move harmoniously around some 
common centre is entirely analogous to 
what we see in other departments of 
creation. Even in " the little part we 
dimly scan " we see in the various classes 
of created objects a tendency to suprem- 
acy in some one. We speak of the lordly 
oak of the forest; of the queenly rose of 
our gardens ; of the eagle as the king of 



7() A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

birds; of the lion as the undisputed mon- 
arch among T)easts. It would indeed l)e 
singular if the analogy failed when applied 
to men. And it does not, for the necessity 
of subordination is felt from the very first 
stages of society. But we need not look 
to classes of men, to nations, to commu- 
nities, or even to families and schools, ])ut 
may find within our own breasts illustra- 
tions of this princij)le. 

Our own passions, emotions, and facul- 
ties of mind may be compared to a nation of 
separate individuals, which, without some 
head, some controlling principle, will rush 
madly on to their own destruction, leading 
misery and anarchy in their train. It is 
of self-government that I desire to speak. 
And what among our faculties or impulses 
nmst we regard as worthy of supreme 
authority, with wdiich we may invest royal 
power? Among the powers of the mind 
the will is the director. We may express 
the rio-ht condition of tiiis in a few words ; 
it should he identified with the will of 
God. The other faculties may bring to it 
the knowledge of his will, as the su))jects 
of a despot may report to him tidings to 



SELF-GOVERNMENT. 11 

reij:ulate his acts, but human will itself 
should be but an echo of that of the Sov- 
ereign of the universe. And how may 
his will be known? He has given us rea- 
son and conscience to learn his designs, 
and to direct our actions. Human will 
alone, though it must prompt every act, 
is but a tickle and arl)itrary despot, unlit 
to rule without being itself ruled by an 
enlightened conscience and rightly directed 
reason. God, in giving us a will of our 
own, has placed in our hands the power of 
rightly training our various faculties, of 
using them in a way to promote the great- 
est amount of happiness to ourselves, and 
performing the greatest amount of good to 
others. Or we may, by wilful ignorance, 
or a careless perversion of these faculties, 
bring misery to ourselves and injury to 
others. 

We are responsible, as far as our means 
of information have extended, for the 
proper development of our physical na- 
ture. This part of our being is under the 
control of physical laws w^hich it is the 
duty of every reasonable being to obey. 
There is a singular state of feelino- on the 



78 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

subject of obedience to this class of the 
hiws of our nature which has led to much 
suffering and sin. Many individuals who 
would not knowingly violate the least point 
of moral law recklessly tread upon the 
plainest recjuirements of their physical 
nature. As if a law of God mio^ht ])e dis- 
regarded innocently, whether to be learned 
from the pages of ins})iration or from the 
observation of causes and effects in the 
natural world. As though the partaking of 
articles of food known to be injurious, or 
tempting others with the same, were inno- 
cent, while suicide and murder are crimes 
of blackest dye. Govern yourselves, rise 
above your impulses, and pursue the 
course marked out l)y the higher faculties, 

Gur intellectual nature is a subject of 
discipline and control. The human mind 
is as a vast tield, where weeds and bram- 
l)les will grow in luxuriance unless the 
hand of cultivation interpose and convert 
the whole into a ])looming garden. It 
is like the unbroken colt, useless until 
Itrought into subjection. The power of 
disciplining the faculties is within our- 
selves. We may place ourselves in favor- 



SELF-GOVERNMENT. 79 

able circumstances for this trainino;, but 
the contest is within. Our faculties, to 
be of the ureatest use, should be manage- 
able. When we wish the mind to act, if 
properly trained, it will oliey us, and we 
can go calmly about the appointed task, 
sure that the desired results will he ac- 
complished. " The perfection of a disci- 
})lined mind is, not to be able on some 
great contingency to rouse up its faculties 
and draw out a giant strength, but to 
have it always ready to produce a given, 
adequate quantity of results in a given 
and equal time.'" You can, by comparing 
yourself now with what you were months 
or years ago (those of you wlio are really 
students), probably perceive that you have 
much more power over yourself than at 
that time ; you can more easily confine 
your attention to a given point and " think 
it out." You do not find so much diffi- 
culty in following a discussion or plan- 
ning a piece of written composition. Let 
this encourage you to proceed in the work 
of mental discipline. New victories will 
daily be gained by the resolute will. The 
conquest itself is full of delight to the 
determined soul, and the result of the 



80 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

victory an advantage never to be lost. 
The more active and vigorous your powers, 
the more the need of self-government, as 
the more powerful the subjects of a king, 
the more energetic should be his reign, to 
prevent violent and tumultuous outbreaks. 
Let, then, your first object be to make 
your mind obey you, to make your pow- 
ers submit to reason. 

Man, as a moral being, needs self -con- 
trol. Many are the temptations to sin, in 
thought as well as in word and act. He 
needs a principle within which shall com- 
mand and be obeyed. Those lawless rov- 
ings of the imagination which lead to sin 
must be checked. Sin tempts in a thou- 
sand forms. The allurements it holds 
out are fitted to entice those of every age 
and condition. The student, though se- 
cluded from the attractions of the busy 
world, yet finds constant need of moral 
courage and stern self-control to keep 
from even outward sin. And the tempta- 
tions to sin, which can be known only to 
the all-seeing eye, how numerous ! I 
have named the power of resistance, self- 
control. Yet who that has tried the ex- 



2 



SELF-GOVERNMENT. 81 

periineiit but has found himself unequal 
to the test, but has felt the need of some- 
thing without on which to depend ? Who 
has not felt the need of a power superior 
to his own will, with its directors to con- 
trol the whole ? The perfection of self-gov- 
ernment is an entire reliance on the govern- 
ment of God, the all-wise controller of the 
universe, and a bringing of all our powers 
into accordance with his reijuirements. 

This discipline of the mind and heart is 
one great end of education. Scholars, '^) 
eAen those who have made some little 
progress in their education, are apt to 
forget this, and ask the l)enelit of a course ; 
of disciplinary study. They say they will 
have no use in after life for this particular 
branch, and will perhaps forget the whole. 
Be it so. They cannot help being profited 
if they have diligently and laboriously 
studied. The power which has been 
gained over the attention, the exertion of 
the powers to grasp the difficult subject, 
are sufficient reward for its pursuit. Of 
what use are the particular exercises of 
the gymnasium, if not to develop and 
strengthen the muscular powers of the 



82 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

body ? A writer who uiade the education 
of youth his business and study once said : 
" If your teachers should put you to study- 
ing magic, take hold and study it without 
quarrelling with it. There may be no 
practical use in it, l)ut the discipline of 
mind required hy wading through an in- 
tricate subject is of innueuse value." 

Remember, then, that no effort of the 
mind is ever lost ; though it may not ))e 
rewarded in just the way you expected, it 
will certainly prepare you to make another 
effort more powerful and better directed. 
Fear not to bring your mind to grapple 
with great and intricate subjects. In no 
other way can it be prepared for great 
achievements. In no other way can it 
take its stand among other educated minds 
with any show of equality. 

A sul)jugation of all our powers to the 
dominion of reason and conscience is the 
best means of promoting our own happi- 
ness and that of others. It cannot have 
escaped the observation of anyone that 
those who allow themselves to be governed 
by their impulses, who act as present in- 
clination prompts, are continually bring- 



8ELF-G VERNMENT. 83 

ing upon themselves troubles which the 
more c;dm and ^philosophical entirely 
escape. There is, in ill-regulated minds, 
ever a restlessness, an uneasiness, craving- 
some stimulus, and incapable of acting 
resolutely upon anything. The natural 
state of the faculties is jictivity. Happi- 
ness is found in the exercise of our powers. 
If these powers be not directed to appro- 
priate ol)jects, they turn upon themselves, 
and, like the miserable wretches in Dante's 
vision, lacerate and worry each other. A 
well-regulated mind never waits for em- 
ployment. Subjects of interest for inves- 
tigation are constantly l)efore it. It seeks 
for knowledge as its appropriate food, and 
demands also daily fresh sup[)lies. The 
possessor of such a mind would as soon 
think of fasting a day or a week as of 
neglecting to add some new idea to his 
mental storehouse for the same length of 
time. The anecdote of the philosopher 
who rose, after having retired at night, on 
being; able to recollect no knowledge gained 
during the day, illustrates the assertion. 

It is, perhaps, unnecessary to attempt 
to prove that the person of self-control is 



84 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

more capable of promoting the happiness 
of others than the opposite character. 
Who can enjoy the society of one to-day 
in raptures, to-morrow in tears, one day 
a friend, the next a foe, and ready at all 
times to give way to the most extravagant 
Avhims ; the mood never at any time to be 
calculated upon. What parent can take 
delight in a daughter who will needlessly 
bring disease upon herself in the indul- 
gence of a vitiated ap})etite or careless 
exposure to changes of temperature. What 
hours of anxiety does such a daughter 
cause many a fond mother, which a few 
moments reflection on lier own part might 
prevent. How much more satisfaction 
can a teacher take in that i)upil always to 
be depended on, than in one who is well 
prepared "only when she feels like it." 
And how much more happiness can all the 
friends of a young lady feel in contem- 
plating her as one who can govern her 
desires, who can resist tempations to evil, 
whose whole character is based on princi- 
ples of moral rectitude, than in one for 
Avhom they must always fear, and concern- 
ing whom they can never feel at ease 
wlien " out of their siaht." 



SELF- G VERNMENT. 8 5 

A SLiilicient motive for the exercise of 
self-government will be found in the con- 
sideration of its being a duty. We may 
see the will of the Creator in this by trac- 
ing the results of our actions. AVe may 
find, too, precepts concerning it in Holy 
Writ. Paul s])oke of the necessity of 
keeping his body in sul)iection, and his 
thouohts under o-overnment. There is 
every motive to urge to this self-subju- 
gation. There is a false pride which 
sometimes rebels ao'ainst obevino" the com- 
mands of another, but cannot against obey- 
ing one's self. There is a feeling of 
satisfaction in every victory over one's 
evil propensities. There is a feeling of 
happiness in becoming each day more as 
we should l^e, and reflecting that we our- 
selves are the doers of the work. The 
truly noble mind will thankfully receive 
every aid possible to be afforded in so im- 
portant a Avork ; but still it nuist mainly 
be performed l)y each for himself. The 
greatest victories are those one gains over 
himself. How many who have concpiered 
empires have never gained such a victory. 
Yet it may l)e won by the humljlest and 
weakest who really makes the attempt. 



86 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 



II. — Industry. 

The importance of active, industrious 
habits to man as promotive of health and 
cheerfuhiess is such that it may almost be 
doubted whether the curse pronounced on 
Adam has not been converted into a bless- 
ing. Where shall we look for the vari- 
ous forms of disease in their greatest 
numlier if not among the idle? Where 
shall we tind the dull, sluggish eye, and 
hear of sadness and lowness of spirits, if 
not among those whose minds feed on 
vacuity and pine in their emptiness? A 
])roper exercise l)otli of mind and l)ody is 
necessar}' to the full development of 
either, and in the due exercise of their 
several faculties may be found the highest 
degree of happiness. We cannot doubt 
the design of our Creator in this respect. 
We see that he connects happiness with 
industry, as well as makes it the means 
of man securing to himself the comforts 
and conveniences of life. Man was not 
created like the wild l)east of the forest, 
with garments of hair or fur to protect 
him from the inclemency of the weather, 



INDUSTRY. 87 

or so formed as to endure the ehanges of 
temperature without a defence reared 
about him. But he has been phiced amid 
circumstances calculated to develoj) his 
energies, to call forth constantly the 
powers of his mind, which, if not exer- 
cised in preparing to meet the exigencies 
of his situation, must be followed by the 
suffering and death of himself, and those 
depending on him. The mind, too, was 
not endowed with an intuitive perception 
of all which it desired to know, but was 
surrounded with objects to excite curi- 
osity, one of its most active powers. The 
mind was formed for activity, for in- 
dustry, without which it must be a blank, 
where sin will write in dark and efface- 
less characters. 

Industrious habits are of peculiar im- 
portance to women. They are of impor- 
tance to her first, because of the many 
duties devolving upon her. During her 
whole life, the virtuous woman may say 
"she has more than she knows how to do." 
As a daughter residino- under the parental 
roof, she need never be idle. She may 
make her services valuable to her mother 



88 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

by assisting her in her domestic cares, 
and thus preparing herself for future life, 
while she may, if she possesses brothers 
and sisters, do much to render home 
attractive to them, as well as l^e actively 
engaged for their welfare and improve- 
ment. She will not think, because not 
summoned imperatively from her couch 
at an early hour, that she may incleti- 
nitely })rolong the morning sleep ; ])ut the 
thought of unperformed duties will call 
her betimes to their performance. She 
will not lounge listlessly on the sofa, or 
saunter in an aimless walk, while her 
mother is weighed down Avith her o[)pres- 
sive labors. She will not spend hours in 
idleness, while her wardrobe is ready to 
cry out for shame of its neglected condi- 
tion. She will not call a servant from a 
distant part of the house to do that for 
her which a slight exertion of her own 
would have easily accomplished. She will 
not show, in any instance, that she con- 
siders it honorable to haxe nothing to do, 
and will not dare l)oast of her inactive 
and useless life. If her circumstances 
are such that she is not compelled to 
labor for herself with her hands, she will 



INDUSTRY. 89 

still find enough to do in the cultivation 
of her mind, and in works of charity. 
As a scholar, industry is absolutely nec- 
essary to proficiency. There is no " royal 
road " to science. Whoever would be- 
come familiar with its truths must himself 
labor, and assiduously, too. The remark 
is perhaps a trite one that persevering 
application is more valuable to the student 
with ordinary powers than a lively and 
fertile genius without it. To you as 
students, then, I would speak. The 
rough and shapeless marble is before 
you ; it depends upon you whether it ever 
take the form of a lieautiful statue. 
With the most fixed determination, it is 
still but by stroke after stroke for day 
after day and month after month that 
aught can l)e accomplished. The hill of 
science is to be climbed, and it is only by 
rising early and sitting up late, tugging 
each moment at the toilsome ascent, hop- 
ing and trusting, though the advance be but 
step by ste}), that a high point will yet be 
reached. Think, as you commence the life 
of a student, that you have commenced 
a life of labor, one in which " avarice of 
time " must be felt or nothiuii- can be done. 



90 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

In order to accom})lish the greatest 
amount as a scholar, the daily duties 
should be distinctly understood, and a 
l)lan formed to occupy the whole time. 
No delay should ever be made in deciding 
what to do next, but the finishing of one 
thing should immediately suggest the next. 
This plan should be strictly adhered to if 
possible. If broken in ui)on, contrive 
some way to make up the time lost. Do 
not lose the fragments of time, but let the 
improvement of these be a part of your 
plan. Decide wdiat can best be done in 
them, and let them not be s})ent in idle- 
ness. Have at hand some needle-work of 
a character to demand little attention to 
attend to while conversing upon subjects 
and on occasions that do not demand the 
whole attention. Do not imagine, how- 
ever, that your industry in intellectual 
pursuits is well repaid when you have 
succeeded in performing a great number 
of things. It is the depth to which you 
dig, rather than the surface you scratch 
over, which will prove the value of your 
labor. The purest gold is brought from 
the depth of the mine, the richest pearls 
are not thrown upon the shore for the 



INDUSTRY. 91 

careless wanderer to gather, hut lie deep 
heneath old ocean's hriny wave. Let 
your aim, then, he to search to the bottom 
of the sulijects presented to you. It is a 
positive injury to attend to subjects with- 
<^ut completely mastering them, though 
imagining that you are becoming pro- 
ficients in them. Remember, to be a 
good scholar you must be an industrious 
one, and there is no calling which repays 
the laborer with a greater harvest of hap- 
piness. If the ascent be toilsome, flowers 
border the path. If the point in view be 
far above you, it is in a purer atmosphere 
and under fairer skies. If the road l)e 
steep, the helping hand of sages of old 
and of geniuses of the present is extended 
to help you, while voices of wisdom and 
inspiration are inviting you upward. Do 
not repine, then, at the difficulties in your 
path. They may each become a stimulus 
to soad you on. 

The idea, though al)surd, is not un- 
conmion, that the training of the mental 
powers, which a young lady receives at 
school, is not of the least use to her as a 
wife. If her education has been worthy 



92 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

of the name, it has pre})ared her for her 
duties in that capacity. A well-balanced 
mind, with a sound judgment, adapts itself 
to the circumstances in which it is placed. 
So far from domestic duties lieing ])eneath 
the attention of a well-educated woman, 
she may find pleasure, and a call for no 
mean talent, in their performance. Some 
of our most gifted lady writers have busied 
themselves in them in the interim of liter- 
ary labors, Avithout fearing that the fumes 
of the kitchen would taint their admired 
productions. We find two opposite courses 
of conduct pursued l>y young ladies in re- 
gard to matrimony and its duties. One 
class make it the principal su])ject of 
thought and topic of conversation, show- 
ing, by actions at least, that the 3^ consider 
that the chief end of their existence is to 
be married ; while another, properly dis- 
gusted with such conduct, and hunenting 
the ridicule to which their whole sex are 
exposed l)y it, fall into the opposite ex- 
treme, and think nothing of })reparing 
themselves for the discharge of the duties 
of a state to which all may look forward 
as one proper for womtm. This may seem 
foreign to my subject, l)ut I wish to im- 



WISDOM. 93 

press on your minds that the whole course 
of your future life will imperatively call 
for industrious habits, and from the nmlti- 
plicity and importance of the cares of 
married life, they should not be assumed 
lightly, or Avithout a preparation in the 
school of industry. I wish you to remem- 
ber that the habits I urge upon you to 
acquire now are important to you as a 
preparation for the all-important future. 

III. — Wisdom. 

To proceed in the pursuit of knowledge 
and mental discipline is the true interest 
of every one. Nothing else will enable 
one to compete in the transaction of busi- 
ness with the foresighted and designing of 
the world. Nothing will command more 
respect from our fellow men. The gaudy 
trappings of wealth may command the 
homage of the interested and the ignorant, 
l)ut this will draw the esteem of the wise 
and good. Knowledge is power. Noth- 
ing will give more influence, not only over 
vulgar and ignorant minds, but over equals 
and superiors. A powerful intellect may 
mould the multitude at its will, and stem 



94 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

the current of Avrath and violence at its 
bicklino-. 

Our talents are bestowed upon us for 
use. An account of theui will ])e required 
of us, and it behooves us to see to it that 
we do not waste our Lord's money, but so 
manage it that it may be returned to him 
with usury. I do not hesitate to say that 
it is the duty of each one of you to strive 
to ol)tain the very best education the best 
institutions of our land will aid you in 
sainino;, and to sro forward in its pursuit 
when removed from the stimulus of in- 
structors and classmates. You ought to let 
their motive influence you when toiling up 
the steep and rugged hill of science. Re- 
member that you are in the path of duty, 
that you have the right on your side. 
Pecuniary difficulties, often so formidal)le 
to the best students, have as often been 
found by them not to be insuperable, but 
even the means of rousing the mind to 
greater exertions, and calling out other- 
wise hidden powers. To a mind roused to 
a sense of the importance of knowledge, 
and with a love of it, the mountains of the 
slothful and indifferent ])ecome mole-hills. 



WISDOM. 95 

and the lions in the way of the timid and 
fearful recede as the hare before the 
hounds of the hunter. vSuch a one may 
truly say that to him nothing " under the 
whole heaven has been found difficult," for 
his mind has been determined. 

It is a real blessma- to have intelligent 
correspondents. Next to that of social 
intercourse in the pleasure it confers, it 
is superior to it in many respects as a means 
of improvement. " Thought written is 
the more possessed." But letter writing 
alone might generate a too loose and illosi:- 
ical style and habit of thinking. Essays, 
discussions, dissertations, reviews, etc., 
should be written. Perhaps they may 
never meet the eye or approbation of 
another, and it is not for this purpose you 
should write them. They will discipline 
your own mind, and some of them, per- 
chance, as time may liave matured your 
powers, may be found worthy the perusal 
of the still insatiate public. They will 
be to your own soul their " exceeding 
great reward." You can trace ])y them 
your progress from year to year. From 
the small beginnings you now make you 



96 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

may advance to a high phice among the 
authors of our land, " for to write aptly is 
of practice." " To be accurate, write ; to 
remember, write ; to know thine own 
mind, write." 

But it is not in human nature to con- 
tinue a course so laborious without some- 
thing to cheer and encourage. What, 
then, has the student? What have you 
to encourage you in your pursuit of wis- 
dom that you shall ever obtain the prize, 
or gain enough to repay you for your 
toils? You may be encouraged by look- 
ing to what others have done, with no 
superiorit}^ of talent, and with, perhaps, 
inferior facilities for cultivating it. When 
we contemplate the attainments of a 
More, a Lady Jane Gray, a Sigourney, 
or Hannah Adams, we are perhaps apt to 
imagine them superior in natural talent 
to ourselves. This may be true, but how 
do we know but that we may equal or 
even excel them if the effort be made and 
continued? I do not believe in an exclu- 
siveness of talent. I see not why there 
may not be now in existence thousands 
unknown to fame who are every whit as 



WISDOM. 97 

highly endowed by nature as those whom 
the silver trump has so long delighted in 
proclaiming. I would not by this place 
fame l)efore you as a thing to l)e desired 
or sought for ; l)ut Avould lead you to 
trust your |)owers, and lalior with them 
to acquire the means of making yourself 
happy and useful to those around you. 
Your sphere of influence may be large or 
it may be small, but so far as it extends 
let it be of weight. You may l)e encour- 
aged by the increased capacity of happi- 
ness your intellectual growth gives you. 
It is true there is an increased capacity of 
suffering ; but we may, if we will, choose 
the beautiful, the good, and the true for 
our companions in the path of learning, 
and reject the gloomy espionage of De- 
spondency, with her frowning brow and 
evil and false alarms. 

To do good should be our object of 
living. How to doit, then, is a matter of 
no small importance. How many acts of 
intended kindness have, for want of knowl- 
edge, sent an arrow to the heart they 
meant to soothe ! If we intend them to do 
good to our fellow men we must study 



98 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

their natures, and the more powerful the 
mind which we brino; into action in this 
work, the more perfectly will it be done. 
Our knowledge may help us to instruct 
the ignorant, may devise means to satisfy 
the bodily wants, and may direct us in 
applying heaven-l)orn truth to erring and 
suffering humanity. All culture of the 
intellect should be su1)servient to that of 
the moral powers. It should be so con- 
ducted as to draw them out, and })ursued 
from motives which are bounded not by 
earth. We should consider the education 
of our powers as a preparation for eter- 
nity. I dou1)t not that the progress made 
here in knowledge influences our happi- 
ness in the future world, and that no 
acquirement will be lost. Our greatness 
of intellect will increase our ha}:»piness or 
enhance our woe. 

In my view of such motives and ends, 
I would say to you, — Press on in the 
Avork of iinprovement. Look further and 
still further into the mysteries of the uni- 
verse, and prepare to gaze far away into 
the inmieasured depths of Deity. Oh, 
it is unearthly happiness to unloose the 



WISDOM. 99 

thouirhts, and even while in the fetters of 
the flesh, soar away into the spiritual 
world, feeling our spirits assimilating, 
mingling with the purer essences of 
heaven. We have none of us more than 
walked along the coast of the vast sea of 
knowledge ; perchance we have gathered 
a few pebbles from its shore, while far 
beyond in its unexplored depths lie pearls 
more rich than the Indian diver has ever 
dreamed of. Let us launch boldly upon 
its yet unmeasured extent ; let us prepare 
for a long voyage upon its ever brighten- 
ing waves, and fear not to dive deep that 
we may bring up its richest treasures. 

•' Oh press ou! 
For it shall make you mighty amoug uien. 
And fi-()m the eyrie of your eagle thought 
Ye shall look down on monarchs.'" 

A feeling of satisfaction with present 
attainments, a desire to relax in the efforts 
for improvement, is as fatal to the student 
as is sleep to the benighted traveller amid 
the snows of the Alps. Genius alone, if 
it be possessed, will be to us but as the 
hand of the sculptor, which is al)le indeed 
to form the beautiful statue from the 
shapeless block, but would never accom- 



100 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

plish it while hanging listlessly hy his 
side. Labor, untiring effort, must be the 
portion of every one who would acconi- 
})lisli anything great or good. We will 
not repine at it, but tind in it our happi- 
ness. Let not the rust of inactivity con- 
sume our energies ; let them be kept con- 
stantly bright with active and vigorous 
exercise. This is our business and pleas- 
ure in this life, and will it not be the same 
in the future? We may then rest from 
the labors of earth, but engage Avith un- 
tiring activity in those higher and nobler. 
" Mind is the perpetual motion. vSloth 
yields it not happiness ; the bliss of a 
spirit is action." 

IV. — Friendship and Love. 

The youno- are often led by their im- 
petuous natures into intimacies (I will not 
call them friendships) which are plainly 
unprotital)le, in which one must feel her- 
self contaminated by the gross faults or 
vices of another to whom she has pro- 
fessed, as she has felt, love. What shall 
be done in such a case? Shall the one 
who feels herself thu« injured, for the fear 



FRIENDSHIP AND LOVE. 101 

of being called fickle, or the awakened 
malice of one she fears as an enemy, still 
wear the mask of friendship? Keason 
and conscience answer, No. Let such a 
friendship he broken off. But much cau- 
tion is needed in such a case. If we de- 
liberate before forming an attachment, it 
is no less important that we should do so 
before dissolving one. Are we sure there 
are sufficient reasons for such a step? Is 
it from some real fault of character that 
we wish to separate ourselves, or some ill 
feeling of our own for which we may be 
wholly to blame? If the necessity for 
breaking off an intimacy really exist, all 
care should be taken not to wound the 
feelings of the erring one unnecessarily, 
and on no account let any advantage 
gained over her by knowledge gained 
during the intercourse be used against 
her. Let all secrets be kept inviolate, all 
secret faults be never s})oken. Be careful 
that hatred does not take the place of 
love. Always cherish a spirit of love and 
Christian forliearance to all. " Love your 
enemies." " Bless them that curse you." 
Be like Him who, when " lie was reviled, 
reviled not again." Be not specially anx- 



102 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

ions to be loved. If you deserve it, you 
will lind friends; if you love others, and 
discharge your duties to them humbly and 
faithfully, there will be some kindred 
spirits found whose natures will assimilate 
to your own, and with whom you may walk 
side ]>y side in life's journey, cheering and 
cheered in the companionship. Be not 
forward in your professions of love. Noth- 
ing more surely defeats its object. If 30U 
have gained a friend, be grateful for him. 
Thank God for the lilessing, than which 
none can scarcely ))e greater. If you feel 
that you have no friends, cast not the 
blame on others ; seek within yourself the 
reason. If no one on earth speaks in 
friendship's tones, there is One above, 
ever in accents of love and mercy inviting 
us to his arms. 

It speaks loudly in favor of the charac- 
ter of two individuals when they are seen 
l)reserving for a long time the character 
of friends. There are so many causes 
which may occur to interrupt transient 
intimacies. There is so much in the con- 
stant intercourse of two individuals cal- 
culated to try the temper, there are so 



FRIENDSHIP AND LOVE. 103 

many occasions calling for the spirit of 
forgiveness and self-denial, that the mere 
continuance of the connection speaks of 
many virtues of both parties. 

While inculcating prudence in the choice 
of friends I would most earnestly warn 
you against the sjjirit of sus})icion and 
censoriousness. Search for the good, be- 
lieve you will find it as long as you can, 
and when you cannot, cast the mantle of 
charity over others' feelings. Treat no 
stranger in a manner inconsistent with the 
formation of a future friendship. The 
most repulsive at first sight may become 
your warmest friend. But restrain those 
expressions of warm h)ve which you may 
feel till time has given some proof that 
the ol>3ect of your adoration is a Avorthy 
one. By so doing you wrong no one ; 
the bad and selfish receive their due ; the 
good have the assurance that the love mani- 
fested is for the merit they have proved 
themselves to possess, and for which only 
they would ])e loved. 

Love differs from friendship in degree, 
not in kind. Love is the perfection, the 



104 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

highest kind of friendship. Much of what 
is termed friendship is capricious : a kind 
of love being felt, and manifested on occa- 
sions, and the intervals perhaps filled n\) 
with indifference or dislike. But true 
friendship is uniform, a constantly per- 
vading sentiment, seeking opportunities, 
it is true, of manifesting its strength, but 
never falling below a certain level. It 
does not consist in mere professions of 
regard, nor merely in kind looks or soft 
tones, but there is a spirit of self-sacrifice 
in behalf of the beloved one which is ever 
active. There is a willingness to contorm 
to the wishes of another, to shape the con- 
duct so as to please. There is a readi- 
ness to pardon faults. We ought none of 
us to be so unreasonable as to expect to 
find a friend in whom we can discover no 
fault, or as soon as we have learned the 
faults of an individual to conclude that we 
can never be friends. We know ourselves 
to be full of faults, and shall we refuse to 
others the indulgence we w^ould claim for 
ourselves ? Those who know us best wdll 
know the most of our failings and weak- 
nesses ; how necessary that they possess a 
forgiving spirit towards us. The proofs 



FRIENDSHIP AND LOVE. 105 

of friendship are more in acts than words. 
If a person will qnietly, claiming' nothing 
of merit, sacrifice some anticipated pleas- 
nre or indulgence for my interest, if she 
will show on all occasions a willingness to 
oblige, if slie is ever ready to lend a sym- 
pathizing ear to my tale of what deeply 
interests me, if I am ever ready to do and 
feel the same for her, if we can at the 
same time feel that our souls are attuned 
in unison, we may reasonably conclude 
that we have proofs of friendship. 

1 cannot leave tliis subject without ad- 
verting to the provisions made for our 
happiness by an all-beneiicent Creator. 
He has placed us amid trials for the 
streuo-tlTenino; of our virtue : l)ut he has 
given us love for each other to irradiate 
our path, else too full of darkness and 
gloom. He places us amid endearing 
family ties : he surrounds us with objects 
on every hand to draw out our hearts in 
love. We are always happy in loving. 
There is enjoyment in our love of nature, 
in our love for the brute creation, in our 
love for members of our own familv, in 



106 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

our uiiutteral)le affection for a congenial 
spirit, in reverential adoration for our 
God ! The jealousies, the envyinos, the 
rivalries so often associated with love, 
form no more a part of it than did the 
persecutions of the Catholics in the Cru- 
sades form a part of the religion of Christ. 
The absence of love, the sudden ceasing 
of it, or the effort to cease, may cause 
sorrow and a " broken heart"; l)ut never 
the exerciso of love. It is a serious, a 
solemn thing to love. If we are allowed 
to love, let us thank our God that he has 
given us an o1)ieet worthy of such love. 
We do not truly ]o^•e unless we can make 
sacritices for the object of that love. To 
quote a favorite author, " Love is a sweet 
idolater, enslaving all the soul, all the 
devotion of the heart, in all its depth and 
grandeur, a real living sacrifice to the God 
of all its worship)." 

Impulse or fancy too often are the sole 
directors of the young in forming the most 
important connections in life. Some act 
on the principle, "Love will go where it 
is sent," and often imagine it to be sent 
where a deformed and spurious substitute 
only is found. A deep, well-founded 



FRIENDSHIP AND LOVE. 107 

attachment is the only i)voper antecedent 
to marriaoe. 

Our happiness consists in the oratiiica- 
tion of our several faculties. Love is a 
blending together of these faculties in dif- 
ferent individuals, a flowing together in 
harmony of thought and feeling ; and the 
greater number of the faculties called into 
harmonious action, the greater will be the 
love. Thus we may love persons of very 
op})Osite characters. With one we may 
indulge in flights of fancy, enjoy the 
beautiful or the sublime ; with another 
we may engage in argumentative discus- 
sions ; and with another we may hold 
sweet converse on the things beyond the 
veil of sense. If our own natures have 
been })roperly cultivated and developed, 
if our minds are well balanced, we should 
not wish a companion for life who could 
sympathize with us in only one of these 
respects ; but we should seek for a gratiii- 
cation of our whole nature, and the more 
perfect this agreement of natures the more 
perfect will be the love. 



108 A TEACHER'S 3f ESS AGE. 



V. — The Study of Nature. 

Wherever we turn our eyes in this fair 
world in which we live we behold objects 
full of interest. The earth, air, and water 
teem with sul)jects for study, for long and 
close examination. Even a cursory view 
will awaken thoughts and call up feelings 
of no trifling values in the most ordinary 
breast. The wonders of creation have l:>een 
noticed by all. 

I was once much interested in hearing 
from my window a laboring man, of mean 
appearance, ask a clergyman who was ob- 
serving his labors, why Intter and pleasant 
plants grew side by side, drawing their 
nourishment from the same soil? No an- 
swer was heard ; and who can comprehend 
it? It is a mystery, and mysteries like 
this are on every side. We have hut to 
open our eyes, and bend a listening ear, 
and thousands of such w^onderful opera- 
tions will be revealed to us. Who can 
explain the phenomena of the rising cloud 
and gathering tempest? Who can show 
the laws on which depend the changes of 
temperature, or regulate the course of the 



STUDY OF NATURE. 109 

winds ? Somethi nii" ma y 1 )e learned, but who 
understands them f ull}^ ? Who can explain 
the growth of vegetables, can show how 
the almost invisible organs are formed, and 
how they elal)orate from the sap, so uni- 
form in its appearance, the portion neces- 
sary to nourish a particular part of the 
plant ? Who has seen the fairy wand, that, 
in the bowels of the earth, has, in thou- 
sands of rolling years, by almost imper- 
ceptible touches, formed the ruby or the 
sparkling diamond? Who can say that he 
has dived to the depths of any of nature's 
secrets? And is there not here room 
sufficient for the most ambitious student, 
a sphere of exercise wide enough for the 
most capacious powers ? 

The Baltimore oriole chooses the ex- 
tremity of a limber twig, and there sus- 
pends its a])ode. I have seen one of these 
tiny habitations at the extremity of the 
waving l)ranch of a lofty elm, where, moved 
by every breeze, it Avas secure from a[)- 
proach by the most hardy enemy of the 
bird race. It seemed to me sometimes to 
require powers of engineering equal to 
those of the most skilful gunner to ena])le 



110 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

the l)ir(l to enter her domicile diirino- a 
violent wind. 

The study of nature, in all its depart- 
ments, expands the powers of the mind 
by constantly presenting the infinite and 
unfathomable. Dive as far as we may into 
the mysteries of nature, there is still an 
infinity beyond. Go on the winas of the 
imagination to the verge of the visi])le uni- 
verse, you are only on the threshold of 
creation. Grasp as much as you can of 
her train of causes and effects, you find 
you have but touched the hem of their 
garments. Stretch the powers of your 
mind to the utmost to comprehend her 
o})erations, they fall back into themselves, 
wearied with the view of infinity. But 
these glimpses of the unsearchable incite 
the student of nature onward to make 
other and still other trials, and his "re- 
ward is with him." Never has he felt his 
toil unrepaid ; he always finds a jewel, if 
not the very one he seeks. The study of 
nature has a remarkable power of sooth- 
ing and calming the mind. When we have 
been learning that lesson which needs ex- 
perience more than wisdom, that the world 



STUDY OF N A TUBE. Ill 

is full of guilt and misery, then we may 
go forth and l)reathe the fresh air, gaze 
upon the deep blue of the sky, feeling 
there is a world beyond, tread the verdant 
earth, hold converse with birds and flowers, 
and lo ! the gloomy images have departed ; 
we have received a heaven into our souls, 
Avhere shines the light of truth and love. 
\^'ho can indulge in angry and selfish 
passions when surrounded ])y the harmony 
of nature, with the pure eyes of holy 
angels reading the soul ? Man comes forth 
from communion with such scenes ])etter 
prepared for his duties to God and to his 
fellow, with more of the "milk of human 
kindness "to distribute around. Who can 
talk with the angels, even though they be 
of the brook or the flower, without his 
heart being made better? Genius may 
catch some of her loftiest inspirations from 
this converse with nature. Who that has 
a spark of the ethereal fire burning within 
him can look unmoved, with cold indiffer- 
ence, on her works ? In whom will not the 
latent beam brighten into a flame, and by 
its effulgence cheer the path of other of 
earth's pilgrims, awakening perchance in 
them the power hidden in their breasts ? 



112 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

But highei- thun all this will the study of 
nature carry the true, the un})erverted 
mind. Such must feel the need of a power 
to control so miiihty operations, and with 
earnest adoration one will bow l)efore a 
God. "An undevout astronomer is mad." 
An undevout observer of the })utting 
forth of one tiny leaf, the budding and 
expansion of one delicate liower, is living 
in perversion of the highest powers of his 
nature. Who has fashioned the ril^s of 
the earth? Who holds in appointed limits 
the rage of the swelling waters ? Who tem- 
pers the air for man to breathe, and makes 
the animal creation observe their proper 
laws ? From every nook of creation echoes 
the name of God ! It is roared forth b}^ 
the cataract, and whispered by the falling- 
dew ; it rumbles in the thunder, and rests 
in the gentle breeze ; it is written (m the 
lu'oad tirmament and on the petal of the 
lovely tlower. All utter forth, God ! 



WOMANLY VIRTUE. 113 



, VI. — Womanly Virtue. 

It would seem, perhaps, that the value 
of a virtuous character to a woman need 
not be commented on. But when we see 
the eagerness with which many run after 
the attractions of fashion and of accom- 
plishments, the avidity with which they 
pursue the more solid ))ranches of educa- 
tion even, without a thought for the moral 
nature, we may well inquire if their at- 
tention has ever been thoroughly aroused 
to this momentous subject. A young lady, 
in making her appearance into what is 
technically termed society, is usually the 
subject of much remark. She expects it, 
and she is supposed to have endeavored, 
with her friends' assistance, to so educate 
herself that she may ])e favorably received 
and esteemed. But how much of this 
anxiety has been expended, during her 
youthful days, upon the character of ami- 
ability, of benevolence, of true humble 
piety, which she shall bear? Not the 
manner in which she shall appear ami- 
able and good, but that she shall really be 
so, should be the real cause of anxiety. 



114 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

Virtue's garb may 1)e worn, and often is, 
on special occasions, for limited periods, 
by those who can claim no affinity with 
the lawful owner. I shall speak on the 
im})ortance of virtuous principles and hab- 
its to woman. What these principles are 
I need hardly pause to define. The exam- 
ple of Jesus of Nazareth and his teachings 
are before all. The obligations which they 
impose, to " deal justly, love mercy," "to 
love God and our ncighl)or," to regard our 
duties to him more than our friends, or 
even life itself, are well known. The 
moral law given by Moses, and our Lord's 
declaration, that " he came not to destroy 
this but to fulfil," should remove all doubt 
as to what is required of us as moral 
beings. Add to these the monitor within, 
which never sleeps unless by long and un- 
ceasing efforts to compel it to do so, and 
who can excuse herself for a want of 
knowledge of duty? 

Such [)rinciples implanted in the heart 
keep from the disgrace and misery of open 
sin. I mean not those crimes against 
society and the laws of the land to Avliich 
none of you have any temptation, but 
those exhil)itions of evil temper and vio- 



WOMANLY VIRTUE. 115 

lent passions, of impatience and fretf ill- 
ness and deception, which may have been 
seen darkenins; the fair brow and influ- 
encing the acts of the loveliest of the 
dauo'hters of Eve. The display of such 
evil feelings must ])e considered a disgrace 
to any one, however she may have suc- 
ceeded on special occasions in concealing 
them. 

There is nothing which can give the 
friends of a young lad}' such pure delight 
as the thought that she is firmly intrenched 
in virtuous principles. Their fears for 
your safety, if such be your character, 
will never be called up, but rather a proud 
consciousness of your firmness in duty 
will rest in their minds. What a source 
of happiness to yourself to feel that your 
conduct is looked upon with satisfaction 
by those whom you honor and love. The 
happiness, too, of "a conscience void of 
offence " can l)e compared to no other. 
Truly, all we can do in way of self-denial 
is amply compensated ; every act returns 
in blessino- on our own head. 



^ 



116 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

" As a man thinketli, so is he." No one 
can habitually indul«>e in foolish and 
triflino^ trains of thouaht, and at the same 
time be prepared to meet, with an equal 
mind, the trials and temptations of life. 
To say nothing- of the sin against God of 
such thoughts, you may see the effect of 
them in action. The hal)it of indulging 
in dreams of the imagination, in " castle 
building," as it is called, is destructive to 
a high tone of moral feeling. 

If you are endeavoring to form the 
character of a virtuous Avoman, you will 
be watchful of your conduct in private. 
Nothing will be done when concealed from 
every human eye which you would fear to 
have revealed. Little things should be 
done well. Little meannesses should be 
avoided. In your daily intercourse with 
those around you, with your schoolmates, 
teachers, and other friends, let the strict- 
est honesty and fairness be preserved. 
Aim in all your dealings with them to obey 
the Golden Rule. Regard their rights 
in all things, whether they be present or 
absent. Avoid the unkind word or sly 
insinuation concerning the motives of 



W03fANLY VIRTUE. 117 

another. Avoid wounding" tlie feelings 
by allusions and otherwise. Do not wear 
the appearance of taking no interest in 
those with whom you daily meet, or 
appear to conceal from some individuals 
things which you reveal to others. Be 
frank : be courteous ; be really willing to 
trouble yourself to oblige another. Great 
exactions ^v\\\ not be made. Your kind- 
ness will not be presumed upon too far. 
But in aiming thus to promote kind feel- 
ing and happiness, do not yield to tempta- 
tions to do wrong, however alluring they 
may be. Be lirm in refusing to accom- 
pany even your liest friend, if she invites 
you from the path of duty ; and fear not 
to reprove or express your disappro1)a- 
tion when projects of which the justice is 
questionable are proposed. Do not follow 
a multitude to do evil. A regard for 
the right will keep y<ni clear of those 
little differences and unpleasant feelings 
towards each other wdiich sometimes arise 
among school girls. Of the folly of such 
I will not speak. Suffice it to say that if 
you feel right towards all a misunder- 
standing cannot long exist. A conscious- 
ness of rectitude will enable you to go to 



118 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

the estrano-ed one, and together you can 
easily explain all, and I venture nothing 
in saying that in ninety-nine cases in a 
hundred you will find nothing as the 
foundation of all unkind feeling. If you 
have done wrong freely acknowledge it, 
and even if you cannot understand the 
motives of your companion, treat her still 
with honorable and Christian kindness. 

All your intercourse with those whom 
you occasionally meet should be marked 
with a regard for the right. In all your 
dealings be firm and honorable. Let it be 
understood that you are not governed by 
caprice, but by tixed principles from which 
you cannot swerve. Do nothing which 
will risk your good name. Trifling acts 
in public places may be fatal to the rei)u- 
tation which you should all desire to 
1 possess. Let modesty and a regard for 
propriety distinguish you on all occasions. 

The duties of loving and reverencing 
your parents should never l)e forgotten. 
A constant sense of their superior wisdom 
should be preserved. However greater 
than theirs your advantages have been for 



WOMANLY VIRTUE. ng 

cultivating your minds, your obligations 
are the same, or even greater. It is some- 
times the case, that young persons think 
themselves, on account of their superior 
education, free to despise the counsels and 
opinions of their elders ; thus turning the 
weapon which those very parents have 
placed in their hands for a good purpose 
against them. A mind of the highest cul- 
tivation cannot, in its early development, 
have the benefit of that experience wdiich 
forms the superiority of the more aged. 
Then, my dear young friends, use the best 
energies of your minds in promoting the 
welfare of those to Avhom you owe so 
much. Eegard their wishes. Obey their 
every command. Show them that your 
cultivation of mind has refined your feel- 
ings and given you a delicacy in your 
treatment of them. Show that you are 
interested in all that concerns them. How 
many go abroad with sunshine on the 
countenance, but veil themselves in a cloud 
at home. How many spend time and 
talent in preparing to gain the applause of 
strangers, but by peevishness and ill-nature 
give their best friends reason to despise 
them. Think of your parents as your 



120 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

liest earthly friends. As said the Turkish 
prince, while mourning the loss of his 
mother, " Allah can give me many brothers 
and sisters and wives, but I can have but 
one mother." And he might have added, 
l)ut one could ever love him as a mother. 
Truly might the parents of a virtuous 
daughter say : " Who can tind such an one ? 
Her price is far above rubies." 

The rewards of the virtuous woman wall 
l)e found in her own heart, in the con- 
sciousness of rectitude, of ])eing the dis- 
penser of joy around her, " It is more 
blessed to give than to receive." But the 
giver is blessed in giving and receiving. 
The kind words and deeds will return with 
interest to her who bestowed them. She 
has not, like the butterfly, flattered in 
sunlight to attract the gaze of thoughtless 
idlers, or to amuse for the moment the 
more thoughtful, but, like the angel of 
mercy, she has gone forth to cheer and to 
bless the bowed down and the sorrowing. 
She passes through scenes of trial and 
temptation unscathed, and prepared for 
new proofs, like gold seven times purified. 
She lives not in vain dreams of Utopian hap- 



WOMANLY VIRTUE. 121 

piness, but nerves herself to the duties of 
the present real world, and leaves it not 
as though she had never lived in it. Her 
mission ended, her duties all and well per- 
formed, she leaves this life like a " shock 
of corn fully ripe." Shall I attempt to 
look farther, and follow her ])eyond this 
world, and ask what are there her re- 
wards? I must pause, " for eye hath not 
seen, nor ear heard " the joys of those who 
are at last found on the right hand of their 
Redeemer. We cannot realize the rapture 
with which she will strike the golden harp, 
or add her voice to those unceasing songs 
of praise. That you, my dear girls, may 
all be numbered with those who shall, in 
the world to which we are all hastening, 
wear the robe of Christ's righteousness, 
with His mark placed upon you, is the 
sincere and earnest prayer of her who 
addresses you. 



122 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 



FROM AN ADDRESS AT THE ORGANIZATION 
OF A BENEVOLENT SOCIETY. 

We are beneiited l)y everything that 
calls into exercise the highest faculties of 
our nature. Our whole enjoyment con- 
sists in the appropriate exercise of every 
function. Let any one of our powers lie 
dormant and a fountain of gratification is 
forever sealed. " The bliss of the spirit 
is action.'" " Happiness," says Dr. John- 
son, " consists in the multiplication of 
agreeable consciousnesses." To be in the 
highest degree happy, to fulfil in the best 
manner the whole purpose of our being, 
our natures must be called into action : all 
our faculties must lie engaged in harmoni- 
ous exercise. The higher the rank of the 
faculties enoao;ed, the Greater the irratifica- 
tion of their action. There is a kind of 
satisfaction in revenue ; how much hio'her 
that of Christian forgiveness I The pleas- 
ure derived from the sense of taste or 
smell may he great, but how nuich greater 
delight does the soul exjieriencc while 
drinking in beauty from the glowing even- 
ing sky, or from the outspread landscape 



BENE VOLENCE. 123 

of thousand hues :ind forms. All expan- 
sion and action of our higher powers ele- 
vates us in the scale of being, and is an 
increased capacity for happiness. Why 
should we doubt that it is " more 1)lessed 
to give than to receive"? Why should 
we suppose that a good action benefits 
only the one for whom it is intended? 
And why should we congratulate the re- 
cipient of a favor, and envy not the one 
who possessed a heart noble and generous 
enough to devise the noble act? Is it 
because we fancy the possession of some 
tangible material substance the Greatest of 
blessings ? Who would not rather possess 
the heart of a Howard than all the dollars 
of an Astor? Affections are the coin of 
spirits ; brutes may transport silver and 
gold. How much more desirable the spirit 
of an Ann H. Judson, — devoting to the 
miserable Burmans not one afternoon in 
a mouth, or one evening in a week by her 
pleasant fireside to labor for the heathen, 
but the loftiest energies of her noble soul, 
amid suffering and contumely, for her 
whole lifetime, — than all the homage which 
Queen Elizabeth, with three kingdoms at 
her feet, in her proudest moments, ever 



124 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

received ? As the genius of the sculptor 
is more desirable than even the almost 
breathing image which his hand has made, 
as the soul of the poet in its high concep- 
tions is even far aliove his rao^-t skilful 
embodiment of them, so is the heart which 
" devises liljeral things " transcendently 
more blessed than the most favored re- 
ceiver of them. ^ 

One self-denying, practical Christian, 
though her sphere l)e narrow, will accom- 
plish more of real good than all the Owens 
and Fouriers the world has ever produced. 

A ])enevolent act is like the si)routing 
of a seed in the soul ; the smiles and tears 
of the recipient are the sunshine and show- 
ers which may bring the germ to maturity. 

Our charities must begin at home and 

extend from it in every direction, so that 

our gratilication may not be wholly of 

indigenous products, but consist in part of 

the luxuries of foreign climes. In a thou- 

sand forms there comes to the soul the 

reward of disinterested benevolence. 

" Every rtowei- on other's pathway strown, 
Reflects its frai>"raut beauty ou our own."' 



BENEVOLENCE. 125 

It is strange that the temptation is not 
stronger than it seems to be, to be benevo- 
lent from selfishness. A refined kind of 
selfishness it would indeed l)e, conceiving 
it in any sense proper to call by such a 
name the pleasure resulting from a purely 
benevolent act. ^ 

A man is never in a l)etter condition to 
praise God than when he has been extend- 
ing the hand of charity to one of his 
creatures. It is difficult to see how a man 
can love Jesus Christ and not love those 
for whom he died. That he does not is a 
strong argument against his piety. 

Our faculties act in clusters. Love to 

God, love to man, love to all the creatures 

of God, love to every atom and every 

system of worlds that he has made, flow 

forth alike from the heart in unison with 

his requirements. 

' ' He prayeth well, who loveth well 
Both man aud bird and l)east."" 

How glorious the thought that in doing 
good we are co-workers with God I That 
he condescends to style us fellow laborers 
with him ! That in so doina' we are 



126 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

becoming more like him into whose image 
we hope to be transformed I We may 
reflect, too, with satisfaction on the good 
accomplished through our huml)le instru- 
mentality. We may follow in imagina- 
tion our gifts to tlieir destination. We 
may fancy the sparkling eye, the glad 
smile, and the joyous tones of those enjoy- 
ing our bounty. We may fancy the heart 
of the missionary on distant shores bless- 
ing the means of renewed usefulness we 
have given him. We may, by a loftier 
flight of imagination, catch from the spirit 
world the song of redeeming love taught 
some heathen soul from the word of life 
we once sent to him. 

FROM A LECTURE ON ART EDUCATION. 

There are to be found in the present 
day numerous circles where art and art 
productions are discussed ad nauseam ; 
from which a casual visitor, possessed of 
some knowledge of art and with a rever- 
ence for it, retires, disgusted for the mo- 
ment with the whole subject. But this 
same visitor has more often encountered 
the opposite extreme ; he has fallen among 
people entirely ignorant of artistic matters. 



ART EDUCATION. 127 

either supposing themselves competent to 
pronounce judgment upon any and every 
work of art, or, confessing their ignor- 
ance, glorying in it, and professing to de- 
spise the whole race of artists and their 
productions. 1 think, however, that we 
tind, especially since the " Centennial," 
more reasonable views of the sul)ject and 
a greater desire to be informed concerning 
it than formerly. But the indifference is 
still deplora1)le. I once invited some 
recent graduates of a theological semi- 
nary, who had lived three years within 
half an hour of a great city without dis- 
covering the locations of its art galleries, to 
look at a collection of engravings, Dore's 
Tennyson and Retsch's Outlines being 
among its attractions. They excused 
themselves for want of time. (It was 
their vacation at the end of their profes- 
sional course, you rememl)er.) A vener- 
able gentleman, who had been president 
of three or four colleges, after listening 
to a lecture to undergraduates, in which 
the manner of producing the different 
styles of engravings was explained, con- 
fessed that he had never before in his life 
thought of the subject. 



128 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

I knew of a father whose son had shown 
some skill in the art of drawing, and who 
desired to learn more of it, objecting to the 
request on the ground that it would make 
the boy, as he said, "namby-pamby." 
We remember that the father of Frederick 
the Great forbade his flute playing for a 
similar reason, and Ave can understand 
how the half-savao:e old Prussian kins; 
felt in the matter : but it is not so easy to 
comprehend why a man desiring a peace- 
ful career for his son in this nineteenth 
century should fear the influence of artis- 
tic instruction. In those times, when 
might made riglit, when war offered the 
only chance to win distinction, tlie peace- 
ful pursuits of the man of science or of 
the artist might naturally be regarded with 
distrust ; but in this good time which has 
come such distrust shows but a mistaken 
idea of the nature and objects of art. 
That it is not necessarily demoralizing 
or enervating may be shown by reference 
to artists who have led nol^le and manly 
lives, and who have stood strong and 
tjood amoncr the stron<j;est and best. The 
names of Michael Angelo, Sir Joshua 
Reynolds, and Benjamin West of former 



ART EDUCATION. 129 

times, and of our own Powers, Story, and 
Harriet Hosmer of to-day, will occur to 
all. 

I purpose speaking to you on the sul)- 
ject of art as a branch of liberal educa- 
tion. I purpose to inquire what art may 
do for a man or a woman who does not 
pursue it as a profession, and who even 
may produce no works of art at all. 

Art may l)e defined (in the words of 
another) as " the pursuit of beauty and of 
truth, or that continued attempt to ex- 
press and multipl}?^ ideas of truth and 
beauty which seems to ))e natural to all 
well-developed races of men." The arts 
of painting and sculpture, by means of 
lines and colors, produce ideas of truth 
and beauty. Music, poetry, and elo- 
quence are reckoned among the fine arts, 
and they present ideas which are invested 
with what may be called beauty by anal- 
ogy. The term l)eauty ma}' be applied to 
anything which is well developed, com- 
plete, or excellent in its kind. " As for 
the nature of beauty," says Mr. Ruskin, 
" it seems to defy all real analysis ; and 
this, and its universal presence, and the 
intensely powerful feeling it awakens. 



130 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

seem to point to its being a direct manifes- 
tation of Divine Power." 

The principles of art may be studied to 
advantage by all, and best studied by giv- 
ing some attention to its practice. " If ye 
will do, ye shall know of the doctrine," is 
as applicable in this as in moral actions. 
J' 

The question of power to learn to draw- 
rightly is simply one of a little time and a 
little earnest attention. The idea that a 
hand and eye that can thread a needle and 
work a Imtton-hole, that can strike a nail 
on the head or bring down a bird on the 
wing, cannot draw any form that is really 
attempted by their owner is absurd. The 
same faculties that are used in forming 
the letters of the alphabet in writing are 
all that are needed in drawing correctly. 

The lirst exercise of the mind, when 
any knowledge is to be acquired, is that 
of attention. It is the first thing to be 
secured in the training of any living 
thing, be it animal or child. And often 
the difference between two minds, one of 
which is capal^le of grasping and retaining 
all that is presented to it, and the other 



AET EDUCATION. 131 

unable to succeed in any attempt however 
small, is, that in the Urst there is the 
power of fixed attention which the second 
laclcs. Now in drawing, from copies or 
from nature, the attention must be held 
to its object. The attention once fixed, a 
thousand things before unseen come out 
and range themselves before the eye. 
Differences appear which the untrained 
and careless eye never saw. A new power 
of observation is gained which stimulates 
to renewed effort, and often the eye, which 
began by seeking only for form and color, 
beholds correspondence of parts, analogies 
and uses, and the student of art finds 
himself in the pursuit of science without 
losing his devotion to the fairer sister 
whom first he wooed. Audubon, the dis- 
tinguished American ornithologist, began 
to study birds with a view only to the 
representation of their plumage by paint- 
ing. His interest in the beautiful objects 
he depicted, growing ])y what it fed upon, 
led him on to those extended observa- 
tions into the lial)its of the feathered crea- 
tion, which have enriched science for all 
time, and placed Audubon's name among 
those of the first naturalists of the world. 



132 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

It is interestino- to observe, that, in our 
own and other languages, the word ex- 
pressive of morarcorrectness and that for 
the shortest distance lietween two points 
is the same. A right line, a right ac- 
tion, rectum; rectus, right, straight. 
A pupil who is learning to draw has his 
mind constantly occupied with ideas of 
right. Accuracy, correctness, precision, 
must characterize the work of every mo- 
ment. Is it possible that a love of truth 
can fail to l^e promoted by this daily and 
hourly association with her? And may 
not some appreciation of the beauty of 
moral rectitude be thus indirectly ac- 
quired? There may be bad men who are 
good artists, as there are no doubt unde- 
vout astronomers who are not mad ; l)ut I 
cannot conceive of a devotee of truth in 
art, who is wholly insensible to her in- 
fluence in morals. 

There is an important part of our nature 
which is peculiarly developed by the study 
of art. Our faculty of observation, our 
power of attention, our reasoning and 
critical powers, our general intelligence, 
may all l)e stimulated and improved, })er- 
haps, by other studies as well as by tliis. 



ART EDUCATION. 133 

but our aesthetic nature, all that part of 
our being which discovers and enjoys 
beauty in its varied forms, is especially 
called into action by art study. It is the 
{lesthetic faculty which responds to the 
harmony of sweet sounds ; which swells 
with rapture as the images of the poet or 
of the orator Hoat before the mind ; which 
kindles with enthusiasm at the sicjht of 
the resplendent sky or glowing land- 
scape ; which pants with longing for the 
infinite as the eye rests on the boundless 
expanse of the ocean ; or which seeks to 
penetrate the heavens in the blue distances 
where the mountains, peak behind peak, 
recede until they are lost to our view in 
a remote mystery which forbids our 
further search. It is this which enjoys 
beauty in all its aspects : which delights in 
the graceful outlines and harmonious col- 
oring of all common objects ; which finds 
pleasure amid toil, while beholding the 
well proportioned utensil or neatly fash- 
ioned tool which must be used for com- 
mon or mean purposes ; which rejoices in 
the creation of graceful forms, and which, 
when once awakened, can never sleep, 
l)ut will continue to <iive a sense of en- 



134 A TEACHEirS MESSAGE. 

ioyment of l^eautiful things throuiihout 
life. It is this part of our constitution 
which, at this time, and with us in Amer- 
ica, is most in danger of lying dormant. 
Everything seems adverse to its cultiva- 
tion. The Anglo-Saxons, as a race, are 
in the greatest danger of neglecting it, 
while they have the greatest need of its 
influence. To use one of Lowell's ^' ses- 
quipedalia verba,''^ we need to be " de- 
saxonized." The Latin races, with their 
love of sensuous delights, with their 
eager, passionate natures, may be draAvn 
away from serious and earnest pursuits l)y 
a too great devotion to art ; and it is these 
nations that have, in the cultivation of a 
debasing and enervating art, marked the 
era of their decline by the climax of their 
attainments in it. But the Anglo-Saxon 
is practical, easily absorbed in business 
and material concerns, is rough and stern, 
and prone to despise the gentler influences 
of an advanced civilization, greatly as 
they are needed for his completeness of 
character, Schiller, in the " Song of the 
Bell," speaking of the combination of 
metals needed for a perfect toned Ijell, 
says, — 



ART EDUCATION. 135 

" Where the strong is betrothed to the weak, 
And the stern in sweet marriage is blent with 

tlie meeli, 
Rings tlie concord harniouious." 

But few people are aware of the influ- 
ence of education over our poAver of see- 
ing. The enjoyment of natural l^eaut}^ is 
greatly heightened, and seems in some 
instances to have l;)een actually created, 
by a knowledge of the principles of art, 
by a love of jiictures, and the habit of 
studying them. And there is nothing like 
actual drawing to enable one to see the 
beauties of a picture, or to discover l)eauty 
in natural objects. Draw common things, 
and 3'ou will see in them what the poet 
sees in them ; you will look at them with 
something of the sense of beauty with 
whicli artists behokl them. Beauty may 
be in the soul of the beholder, but the 
e3'e must be taught and encouraged to 
recoonize it, and there is nothino- l)etter 
to teach one to see a thing than the attempt 
to portray it. Very slight success in 
such an attempt gives very great pleasure, 
although in the pursuit be the reward to 
be souoht rather than the result. 



136 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

Works of Art. — Regard these works 
as we may, we cannot refuse to l)elieve 
that there is something in them worth 
looking for. We cannot imagine that 
sensible men have lived and worked their 
lives into these pictures and statues and 
monuments, and that there is nothing in 
them after all. The art student learns the 
language which the artist uses : he learns 
the symbols by which his ideas are ex- 
pressed, and how to gather as from a new 
world ideas and impressions which could 
never have found expression in words, — 
which through the medium of art alone 
can hnd expression. And when we think 
of the many men throughout the ages who 
have thus lived and wrought their souls 
into their works, men God-endowed with 
iienius, whose flight no ol)stacles could 
hinder, when we think of them and the 
legacies they have left to mankind, shall 
we dare to conclude that we can reap no 
benefit from their heaven-inspired endeav- 
ors, that it is not worth our while to at- 
tempt to look into the world in which they 
lived, and that the realm of wood and 
iron, of mathematics and steam, is all that 
we desire to know. It is true we may 



WORKS OF ART. 137 

not have the opportunities we would wish 
to observe great works, but we may im- 
prove such as we have, and we may, l)y 
reading what has been written on art, 
learn how to improve them. 

Aside from the knowledge of art we 
may derive from works on ai't subjects, 
there is often much else that is valuable. 
A highl}^ intelligent lady writes to me re- 
cently, " I have never found better doctrine 
inculcated in any class of works than in 
art writings. Tyrwhitt and Ruskin seem 
to me to be imbued with a kindred spirit 
of love and purity and philanthropy." 

In whatever way we may gain it, it is 
no small thing to have gained the power 
of earnest admiration of something out 
of ourselves. The spirit even which is 
ascribed to sentimental young ladies, and 
with them finds expression in many an 
" oh ! ah ! splendid ! or mag I " is less to 
he deprecated than the morose, unappre- 
ciative disposition of the man who never 
sees excellence anywhere, and who, like 
lago, " is nothing if not critical." Admira- 
tion of nature or of Avorks of art is entirely 
unselfish, and is one of the highest forms 
of human pleasure. It is worth something 



138 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

to have the power of forgetting ourselves, 
especially when this forge tfulness involves 
a delighted recognition of something sui)e- 
rior to ourselves. 

To the amateur, art is a recreation, and 
takes the place to him that the daily news- 
paper, the gossiping neighbor, or the place 
of public entertainment, occupies with 
others . The desultory attention which such 
persons devote to their work does little 
more than enable them to furnish amuse- 
ment for themselves and their friends, 
yet much may ])e said in favor of amuse- 
ment so cheap, simple, and elevating. And 
although the aesthetic faculty and the moral 
sense must be regarded as distinct, and 
the development of the idea of beauty by 
no means involves that of conscience, the 
practice of amateur art may, while elevat- 
ing the taste, at the same time keep the 
young from debasing amusements or the 
paths of vice. But let the amateur l)e con- 
demned to hours and days of tedious 
leisure, to prolonged waiting for any 
cause, let him be subject to invalidism 
which destroys not the powers of hand 
and eye, and he is found to possess a re- 



AMATEUR ART. 139 

source Avhich may s;ive him from irrita- 
tion, from insanity, idiocy, or from l)eg- 
gary. The productions of amateurs often 
call forth as great admiration as those of the 
great master of painting. It has been said 
that there never was a picture but pleased 
somel)ody. While the taste of the amateur 
himself may be so constantly progressing 
as to keep him dissatisfied with his work, 
yet he experiences a })leasure in his efforts, 
and he can always find those who may be 
benefited to the full extent to which a 
work of art is capable of contributing to 
their improvement, on whom the bestowal 
of his productions will be the greatest of 
favors. No gifts are more prized by the 
wealthy and cultivated than those which 
the hand of the giver has wrought. Thus 
may the spirit of kindness and l)enevo- 
lence, of love and friendship, be delight- 
fully exercised in connection with the 
practice of only amateur art. 

All the decorative arts are employed in 
the production of beauty, and we are so 
made that we enjoy beautiful forms in the 
pattern of a wall paper or of a carpet, in 
the form of a water pitcher or of a chair, 



140 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

as truly as in a painted Madonna or a 
sculptured Venus. The sense of ])eauty 
once thoroughly awakened, and properly 
directed l)y judicious culture, uncouth 
forms, gaudy colorings, and tinsel deco- 
rations will cease to appear in our daily 
surroundings. The dress of the human 
beings around us will become a more tit- 
ting and beautiful adornment of a temple 
illumed by the Shekinah of a human soul ; 
our cities, our towns, and our villages will 
present groupings and colors which we 
can look upon without a shudder ; our pub- 
lic buildings will adorn our native soil, 
making us love it yet more and more ; our 
churches, instead of suggesting the dwell- 
ings of felons or of tiends, will, with their 
surroundings, look like the abodes of 
peace, and be indeed pleasant jjlaces in 
which the weary and thirsting soul may 
find the rest and refreshment which it 
seeks. 

A taste for the beauty of natural scenery 
seems to be usually developed late in the 
life of nations and of individuals. The 
early painters did not represent it, the 
early poets have not sung of it. General 



NATURAL SCENERY. 141 

literature, previous to tlie last hundred 
years, contains l)ut few enthusiastic 
descriptions of scenery. The country, 
among all but modern writers, was looked 
upon as the place where beef and mutton 
were fattened, and where fruit and vege- 
tables grew. Two or three proverbial say- 
ings, quoted by a recent English writer, 
will tolerably well express all we know 
concernino- the feelino- of those men about 
scenery. One is the mythic Frenchman's, 
^^ Ai7nez vous les heaute^ de la N'ature? 
Pour moi, je les abhorref" Another 
comes from an Englishman, "J find Nature 
abominably in my way ! " And a third is 
the ironical question and answer of 
Christopher North, " What is the motive 
with which a thinking man should under- 
take a journey to the Lakes? Why, the 
eating and drinking, to be sure ! " I think 
if we could investigate the experience of 
most men and women who are now ardent 
lovers of scenery, we should find in the 
great majority of cases that the sensibility 
to its influence was developed after child- 
hood, if not somewhat kite in life, and that 
this development was not spontaneous, 
but the result of some influence from with- 



142 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

out ; that the contagion of some friend's 
enthusiasm, or more probably the sioht of 
finely painted Lmdscapes, first awakened 
the interest which ripened into admiration. 
All this, I need not say, points to the im- 
portance of art education, and illustrates 
its civilizing and ennobling effects. 

What, after all, do we get from pictures, 
from scenery and from art, that we should 
care to gain, and which will repay us for 
all this attention and labor? 

Suppose you find beauty, what then? 
I will resort to Robert Browning and 
reply : 

" If you get simple beauty and naught else, 
You get about the best thing God invents, — 
That's somewhat. And you "11 find the soul you've 

missed, 
Within yourself when you return him thanks." 

You will find : 

"The beauty and the wonder and the power, 
The shapes of things, their colors, lights and 

shades. 
Changes, surprises, — and, God made it all I 

"What's it all about? 
To be passed over, despised, or dwelt upon. 
Wondered atV This world's no blot for us, 
Nor l)lank, — it means intensely, and means good." 



ART EDUCATION. 143 

Education in itself often seems to me 
a very wonderful thing, or, rather, perhaps 
I should say that it seems wonderful that 
we are made capable of being educated. 
Why were we not made as the animals and 
plants, with a fixed and determined nature 
which should develop under all circum- 
stances with very nearly the same charac- 
ters and aspects ? For although many 
animals may be trained or educated, train- 
ing and education mean ver}' different 
things with them and with us. Why is it 
that we regard an infant, fresh from the 
hand of its Maker, as a less perfect being 
than the old man who has passed through 
the conflicts of life, and who has l)ecome 
educated in intellect and in character? 
Why is it that the circumstances of l)irth 
and education are allowed to place their 
stamp upon the human soul, so that, in all 
outward characteristics, the man born and 
living in Turkey is essentially a different 
being from an Esquimaux or an English- 
mim? And taking another view of the 
matter, how strange is it that we may our- 
selves choose the die which shall leave its 
impress upon us, that we may determine 
for ourselves the direction in which our 



144 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

faculties shall grow, that we may decide 
the form and stature which we shall attain ? 
How incomprehensil)le is that arrangement 
by which in our greatest immaturity and 
weakness we must decide upon paths 
whose terminations we cannot see, but 
which differ from each other as light from 
darkness I But the responsibility laid 
upon us should make us careful and ear- 
nest, and eager to seize on all the helps 
which may be in our way ; it should lead 
us to accept in our ])lindness the sure and 
infallible guide which Providence and " the 
Word " furnish. The wise heart will find 
wisdom, and a^ll ma}' be secured which is 
needed to make us perfect men and women, 
nothing left out and nothing out of pro- 
portion. 

Education should be symmetrical. All 
our powers were given us for use, and all 
need their appropriate culture. "As the 
eye cannot say to the hand, nor the hand 
to the foot, I have no need of 3'ou," so 
cannot the reason say to the imagina- 
tion, or the imagination to the fancy, 
"I require you not." No one of the ten 
talents was l)estowed to ])e laid up in idle- 



ART EDUCATION. 145 

ness. Like the many keys of the piano, 
all of which may not be needed in every 
piece of music performed, and which yet 
must be in their place and kept in tune, 
the faculties of the human soul are all 
given for some good purpose, and should 
all be held in that condition most favor- 
able for their action. They should "stand 
and wait " that their service may be ren- 
dered when required. Every stone is as 
necessary to the perfection of the arch as 
the keystone. And although, in the Co- 
rinthian temple, every pillar may not be 
necessary to the support of the cornice 
and architrave, all are requisite for its 
symmetry and beauty, and no one is so 
insignificant as not to be missed by the 
Master who has planned the structure, 
and to whom the builders must render an 
account of their work. 

FROM A LECTURE ON ENGRAVING. 

It is one of the blessings of our pres- 
ent age that works of art are scattered 
everywhere among the people. This 
distribution illustrates in a striking man- 
ner the tendencies of ancient and modern 
institutions. Formerly all works of art 



146 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

were confined to the wealthy and privi- 
leged classes. Now every lal)orer',s cot- 
tage and every factory girl's room may 
contain engravings and perhaps vases and 
statuettes as l)eautiful, if not as costly in 
material, as those which formerly graced 
the royal palace. I am sure you will 
thank me if I here quote from Mr. Rus- 
kin, who expresses what I would say so 
much l)etter than I could hope to do : 
"The great lesson of history is that all the 
fine arts as practised hitherto have only 
accelerated the ruin of the states they 
advanced ; and at the moment when, in 
any kingdom, you point to the triumphs 
of its greatest artists, you point also to 
the determined hour of the kingdom's de- 
cline. The names of great painters are 
like passing bells; in the name of V^elas- 
quez, you have sounded the fall of Spain ; 
in the name of Titian, that of Venice ; in 
the name of Leonardo, that of Milan ; in 
the name of Raphael, that of Rome. And 
there is profound justice in this, for hith- 
erto, the greater the art, the more surely 
has it been used, and used solely, for the 
decoration of pride, — whether religious 
or profane pride, is no matter, — or the 



ENGRAVING. 147 

provoking of sensuality. Another course 
lies open to us. For us there can be no 
more the throne of marble, for us no more 
the vault of gold, — but for us there is 
the loftier and lovelier privilege of l)ring- 
ing the power and charm of art within 
the reach of the humble and the poor ; 
and as the magnificence of pjist ages failed 
by its narrowness and its pride, ours may 
prevail and continue by its universality 
and its lowliness." 

We have pictures everywhere, in our 
school books, in our newspapers, on our 
walls, and we may make collections in 
scrap-books and portfolios which w^ill be 
a source of enjoyment to us when fatigued 
or ill, or may help to cheer the weary in- 
valid when other sources of pleasure have 
all failed. And we may have opportuni- 
ties of seeing collections of paintings, as 
we visit the city, where one may always 
find free exhibitions of fine works, or for 
a small fee may see choice or rare pictures. 
The Art Museum in Boston is free to all 
on Saturdays, with all its treasures of an- 
tiques, of sculptures, and of casts from 
Avorks which no money could buy, and 
which only a voyage across the Atlantic 



148 A TEACHER'^ MESSAGE. 

and much weary journeying could enable 
us to see in the originals. The })aintings 
and engravings at the Museum cannot fail 
to interest all, and if one has but an hour 
to spend would well repay the effort of a 
visit. Just as a show, the Art Museum 
is more attractive than hundreds of the 
cheap shows for which so many are will- 
ing to pay their money. 

All painting, engraving, or art gener- 
ally, is but a language by which thoughts 
or feeling may be expressed. One may 
learn to make pictures just as one may 
learn to write, to form words and sen- 
tences, and to arrange them grammatically, 
without expressing any valualjle thought. 
We should not value as a literary work a 
volume of beautifully written or printed 
pages in which only finely executed letters 
and a harmonious jingle of sounds were to 
be found. We value what is written more 
than we do the manner of saying it, and 
nonsense is nonsense however elaborately 
expressed. So the coarsest lithograph or 
wood- cut may be precious to us if it brings 
us into sympathy with a beautiful scene or 
l)eautiful thoudit. I am not savino- that 



ENGRAVING. 149 

the manner of expressing anj'thing in 
either literature or art (or manners in any 
sense) is of no importance, but only that 
we must look Ijeyond the mode of exj^res- 
sion for the hiohpst merit. In selectino; 
pictures, select those that mean somethino- 
to you, that soothe you by their quiet 
beauty, elevate you by their grandeur, or 
inspire you by their heroism. Your taste 
will change in regard to pictures, as with 
poetry and everything else, but you will 
never despise a former object of admira- 
tion if it were sincerely chosen for some- 
thing it really said to you. Learn some- 
thing of art ; it will not hinder your work 
or your business. Take this, too, along 
with you in the journey of life. Look at 
pictures : look at all beautiful objects. 
Learn all you can about them ; learn to 
look to nature for that which the painter 
saw and represented. Look for beauty in 
nature ; if you find it, it will not interfere 
with the other things which you find. 
You can study stones and flowers and 
bugs just as well while enjoying the land- 
scape in which you find them, or the bright 
hues which they themselves reveal. 

There is a story of a prince on whom a 



150 A TEACHEIVS MESSAGE. 

variety of gifts was lavished at his birth. 
Last of all, his uncle, an enchanter, be- 
stowed on him the power of seeing the 
fairies. " He shall see all the hidden beauty 
and latent life which other men's eyes are 
not fine enough to see. He shall know the 
fretful spirits that live under the holly 
leaves and in the curls of the young ferns ; 
and beneath the scarlet mushrooms ; and 
on the stones of the field all scarlet and 
o;reen : and in the orange and o-rav lichens 
of old oak roots. He shall know all 
about the dwellers in the Alpine rose, and 
meet face to face ' the brown men of the 
moors that stay beneath the heather bell.' 
He shall understand the life that is in the 
leaves, and how they faint under the heat 
of noon, and drink deep of summer rain. 
He shall know the s[)irits of structure and 
growth, and the touo-hness of old vews 
and thorns, and the sad strength of the fir 
and c^q^ress. He shall also be on terms 
with the spirits of fire and light, and the 
living rays that make color of sky and 
cloud and distance : and with all under- 
ground tribes who stain earths and metals 
and jewels, and dole out the elements of 
man's frame with all its beuutv and its 



ENGRAVING. 151 

fearf Illness and wonder, — seeing to this 
day it is made of the substance of the 
earth and dust of the ground. And hav- 
ino^ all these gifts he will care little for 
what vulffiir men strive for, and nothinir 
for what evil men desire ; and the com- 
mon troubles of life will touch him lightly, 
for he will have that within him which 
they cannot touch. And because of the 
friends he sees and who see him, he shall 
always l^ear himself gently and stoutly 
among men, with an high heart and an 
humble spirit." "Something like this gift 
to the fairy prince is that of having one's 
eyes open to the beauty of common things. 
In any case, every possible means of 
refinement, and every possible access to 
harmless enjoyment, and every possible 
encouragement to the sense of beauty," is 
the thing most needful to us all in this 
age of material and mercenar}^ tendencies. 

There is a tendency with some persons 
to undervalue engravings and pictures. 
"Only a picture," is all some people will 
say of any representation of external 
nature that can be shown them. An 



152 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

artist once made a very line painting of 
an animal belonging to tlie herd of a 
farmer, which picture, when completed, 
was valued at some hundreds of dolhirs. 
When shown to the owner of the herd he 
expressed great surprise at tlie price of 
the picture, and exclaimed, " Why, you 
could have half my cattle for that money ! " 
A painting of a ruined cottage or of a 
broken down mill, with its disabled water 
wheel, has often been sold for a price that 
the ol)jects at their best would never have 
commanded. These things only go to 
show that the world sets a value on pic- 
tures, even if some of us fail to see it. 
The picture Ijrings to our notice things 
we never saw or cared to see in nature, 
and often interests the beholder in look- 
ing at nature to verify the picture, and so 
helps to create a haljit of observation 
which may be a source of great pleasure. 
A good picture represents not only the 
objects painted, but the emotions that the 
view of l^eautiful objects produce in the 
mind of the painter, which will be high 
and noble according to the genius of the 
man. Tlie painter of genius adds to his 
work "the gleam, the light that never was 



CATHEDRALS. 153 

on sea or land, the consecration, and the 

poet's dream." 

" Foi", don't you mark, we're made so that we love 
First when we see them painted, things we liave 

passed 
Perhaps a hundred times nor cared to see; 
And so they are better, painted — better to us. 
Which is tlie same thing. Art was given for 

that — 
God uses us to help each other so. 
Lending our minds out." 

[''Fra Lippo Lippi," Browning.] 

FROM A LECTURE ON CATHEDRALS. 

The thousands of statues on the out- 
side of the cathedral of Milan are all in 
white marble, like the edifice itself. They 
are placed on the top of spires and pin- 
nacles, in little recesses of the Gothic 
tracery, in oroups, on facades, and at the 
base of the pointed arches. The parts of 
the cathedral, with the statues, near the 
ground are clouded with yellowish brown 
stains, but the nearer the spires, with their 
accompanying angels, approach the sky, 
the whiter and purer do they appear. 
Perhaps from this fact of the exterior, 
one of the best lessons of the cathedral 
may be learned. Nothing can be more 
beautiful than these heaven-kissing pinna- 



154 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

cles in the light of the morning or eve- 
ning sun. The general form of the 
building may not be wholly satisfactory, 
it looks rather flat and broad, but the 
richness of the sculptures and the beauty 
of the coloring cannot be surpassed. I 
am reminded here of our courier, who, 
when we asked him from time to time if 
the cathedrals we were anticipating were 
finer than those we had already seen, 
would invariably reply, " Quite a differ- 
ent thing, missis." Cologne, Strasbourg, 
and Milan, the three great Gothic cathe- 
drals of Europe, can ])yno means l)e com- 
pared. Cologne, gray in color, vast and 
massive, is not at all like Strasbourg, 
dark in color, but rising, as if at a bound, 
untrammelled by gravitation, a structure 
of stony lace, held in place by some mys- 
terious power, and liable to be overthrown 
hy the next breeze ! Then Milan, white, 
solid, a crystallization rather than a struc- 
ture, on which the spirits of the air have 
alighted, to be forever fixed by some strange 
enchantment. 

What do these structures accomplish? 
As far as they are specimens of high and 



CATHEDRALS. 155 

noble art they gratify our taste for the 
beautiful, they meet the cravings of the 
(esthetic part of our nature. But emo- 
tions of taste are not identical with relig- 
ious emotions. The idea of breathing is 
not the idea of sight ; the emotion of 
grandeur is not the emotion of worship. 
If the art be truly pure and noble, it will 
elevate the soul and fit it, perhaps, for a 
better class of emotions than those it can 
itself give. But we have only to observe 
the character of those people who are most 
highly favored with specimens of what we 
call religious art, to be convinced that it 
does but little towards renewing and ele- 
vating the character. Yet we cannot deny 
that external things have their influence 
upon our feelings, and architectural forms 
may symbolize to us high and noble aspi- 
rations, and aid our souls in mounting up- 
ward. Nature certainly does this, as we 
all have felt, and she comes to us with 
grand and T)eautiful aspects which art may 
vainly try to excel. If costly works of art 
are an aid to religion, then those who 
cannot possess them or visit them are 
deprived of a great and important means 
of culture. We may regret our inability 



156 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

to enjoy them to the extent we might Avish, 
but we all may seek the inspiring- influ- 
ences of nature. We may look on the 
beautiful frost work of winter, on the 
crystal palaces in the wintry woods, — we 
may admire the beautiful flowers of spring, 
and lie on the summer grass to gaze 
through the Gothic arches of lofty living- 
forest trees, — we may raise our eyes to 
the vast dome of the sky, with its pan- 
orama of clouds by day and stars by 
night, — we may forget the splendors of 
colored glass when we behold the rainbow 
spanning the heavens, or gaze as it w^ere 
into the open doors of heaven itself in 
the morning or evening sky, — we may 
send our thoughts upward, as our eye 
climbs up to the top of Alpine peaks, 
thousands of feet above us, — and, as we 
behold the illimitable prairie, the sky 
touching lake, or the boundless ocean, — 
vastness and inflnity may call forth the 
longings of our soul. All these we may 
enjoy if our eyes are open to see their 
glories, while we remember, too, that there 
is another Mediator with God than these 
external forms, who has said, "The hour 
Cometh, when ye shall neither in this 



MICHAEL ANGELO. 157 

mountain, nor yet at Jerusalem, worship 
tlie Father," and who has often fulfilled 
his promise of blessing to his disciples by 
meeting with the humblest of his children 
in the lowliest of hovels. 

FROM A LECTURE ON MICHAEL ANGELO. 

I ONCE met in the w^ork of a l)rilliant 
writer this remark : "There are four men 
in the w^orld of art and of literature 
exalted above all others, and to such a 
degree as to seem to belong to another 
race, namely, Dante, Shakespeare, Bee- 
thoven, and Michael Angelo." It seems 
to me that the last named of these, though 
equally, at least, with the first three 
worthy to be known and honored, is really 
but little known or appreciated b}^ those 
whose honor and appreciation are the just 
tribute to great men. The reason may 
lie in the character of his works. We 
seldom admire what we have, never seen, 
and while we (hvell with delight upon the 
pages of Dante and Shakespeare, or listen 
with rapture to the strains of Beethoven, 
and feel that our souls are in communica- 
tion with these master spirits, Michael 
Angelo seems far away from us, like a 



158 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

being of another age or another sphere of 
existence. His works, if we may beiiold 
them, are many of them dimmed by age, 
and we never regard copies, however 
good, with the same interest we feel in the 
original, genuine work of the artist's 
hand, nor do we feel that we can in them 
see the man himself, as we believe we do 
in reading the written page of an author, 
or in listening to the most ordinary ren- 
dering of a musical composition. 

There is a tendency, too, to undervalue 
the whole race of artists, especially paint- 
ers and sculptors, makers of pictures and 
" stone images." We scared}" imagine 
them men and Christians, possessed of 
nol)le or heroic qualities. We are so 
" buried in the waters of the actual " that 
those who minister only to our testhetic 
nature, who only create something pretty 
for us to look at, are regarded as neces- 
sarily frivolous and useless beings, if not 
actually pernicious to society in leading 
people from the proper ])usiness of life. 
We can only come out of these ilhisions 
by learning that facts are against us, which 
we may do by studying the lives of these 
people and learning what they really are. 



MICHAEL AXGELO. 159 

No one can contemplate the life of Michael 
Angelo Buonarotti without respect and 
admiration, and a reverence amounting 
almost to veneration. He is, like one of 
his own statues, many sided, and worthy 
of being viewed from every point. He 
was painter,. sculptor, architect, and poet. 
He was, too, a true man and a Christian. 
His character in its loftiness and purity of 
aim, in its energy and devotion to duty, 
would interest us had he been possessed 
of only ordinary talent and capacity. As 
a man of genius he is worthy of our ad- 
miration and most careful study. 

Few works of art have called out more 
enthusiasm than his famous statue of 
Moses. It Avas in the workshop forty 
years. It has been called the crown of 
modern sculjiture, and l)oth in idea and 
execution is incomparable. It has been said 
that Michael Angelo here embodied both 
himself and Julius. The power which the 
artist felt in himself is exhibited in the 
limbs and frame, and the demon-like, pas- 
sionate vehemence of the Pope is seen in 
the countenance. Photographs of this 
statue are common, and there are casts in 



160 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

this country. No cast, however, can do 
justice to a marble statue. Plaster poorly 
takes the place of the delicate, transparent 
marble, which almost seems possessed of 
a calm, contemplative life. 

Morning and Evening, Night and Day, 
— these, with the statutes of Lorenzo and 
Guliano de Medici, form two of the finest 
groups of statuary in the world. Grimm 
says : " The two dukes opposite to each 
other present the contrast of brooding re- 
flection, and of resolve, rising into action. 
Guliano sits like a general on the summit 
of a hill looking down on his fighting 
soldiers. Lorenzo, deaf to all about him, 
seems lost in inward contemplation." We 
must rememlier that critics are divided as 
to the identity of these statues. Mr. 
C. C. Perkins considers the figure just 
described, and sometimes found as a bronze 
ornament under the name of " Contempla- 
tion," to be Lorenzo, while Grimm plainly 
designated this as Guliano. The design 
of the figures, reclining on sarcophagi at 
the feet of these dukes, seems to be to 
represent time symbolically ; those at the 
feet of Guliano present the perfect con- 



MICHAEL ANGELO. 161 

trast between life and death. Night, a 
female figure, "La Notte," in profound re- 
pose, symbolizes the powerlessness of 
death; Day, a powerful male figure, "II 
Giomo," just awaking to perfect activity, 
is a symbol of the resurrection from the 
dead. " The Evening Twilight and Early 
Dawn," at the foot of Lorenzo, represent 
the passage of the soul from one state to 
the other. The manly figure, " II Crepus- 
colo," is sinking into rest; the female 
" L'Aurora," just casting off her slumber, 
is awaking to immortality. These statues 
have called forth the utmost enthusiasm 
of critics. They are compared with the 
best specimens of Greek art, and believed 
by many to rival them. Of the six fig- 
ures, that of Guliano is the only one com- 
pletely finished. Angelo generally worked 
up the face last ; that of Lorenzo only 
wants the finishing touches. The faces of 
the f(jur statues on the sarcophagi are all 
— I use Angelo's favorite figure — more 
or less veiled by the unremoved marble. 
The limbs, too, have not been wholly ex- 
tricated ; the figures seem struggling forth 
from the stone. This may l)e the best 
place to remind you of the verses of 



162 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

Michael Angelo addressed to Vittoria 
Colonua, founded ou his idea of the 
statue in the ])lock. 

"As when, O lady mine I with cliiselled touch, 

The stoue, uuhewn and cold, 

Becomes a living mould, 
The more the marble wastes, the more the statue 

grows ; 
So, if the workiuo; in my soul be such 
That good is but evolved b.y time's dread blows, 

The vile shell, day by day, 

Falls like superfluous flesh away. 
Oh ! take whatever bonds my spirit knows, 
And reason, virtue, power, within me lay I " 

Is art worthy our time and attention ? 
Such a question will be answered ])y con- 
sidering that God must have had a pur- 
pose when he created men to produce 
artistic works, and made mankind gener- 
ally to feel a need of them and a satisfac- 
tion in them. He created beauty as truly 
as the material for food and clothing. 
He might have made the world without 
flowers, without stars, without music, and 
yet to bring forth fruits, to be visible in 
the light, and vocal with speech. Why 
he has not done so we may not wholly 
know. Men possess in greater or less 
deo-ree creative power, than which noth- 



MICHAEL ANGELO. 163 

ing more truly exalts them and allies them 
with God himself. All men, even chil- 
dren, delight in making something, be it 
a toy, a machine, or a work of art. The 
creative power of genius is possessed by 
few, but those few stand out in the his- 
tory of the world as gods and heroes whom 
posterity will not willingly let die. But 
wdiile there are few great artists, there are 
many capable in some degree of enjoying 
and appreciating art. Goethe said, "Thou 
resemblest whom thou comprehendest," 
In comprehending the works of a great 
master, we are ennobled in our own es- 
teem, and really elevated to a higher 
plane of existence. Thus, that cannot 
be an unimportant part of our nature 
which delights in beautiful things, in the 
beauties not only of nature but of art, 
and that it is a legitimate hunger which 
can only be gratilied by the grand and the 
beautiful, as truly as that which seeks 
nourishment for the body, is attested by 
such nol)le lives as the one we contemplate 
in this lecture. 

Questions are often raised as to the 
influence of works of art upon the moral 



164 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

nature. No decisive answer can be given. 
Milton leajds his hosts of rel)el angels to 

" th<^ Doriiia mood 
Of flutes and soft recorders." 

as they proceed to the erection of the 
" Doric pillar overlaid with golden archi- 
trave " in Pandemonium ; and the songs 
of the redeemed and their golden harps 
resounding amid the arches of heaven 
are amono- the most familiar images. Art 
may render attractive the paths of vice, 
as well as decorate the straight and rugged 
Avay of virtue. It is an instrument to be 
used in the service of heaven or of hell. 
The same work may be to one l^eholder an 
angel of love and purity, and to another 
it may suggest only what is debasing and 
devilish. The question, too, is often dis- 
cussed whether the emotions raised by 
painting, sculpture, architecture, and 
music are as intense as those called up 
by the writings of the poet, — a question 
which it is idle to discuss as it is not pos- 
sible to weigh and measure the emotions 
of a sino-le breast, much less those of man- 
kind at large. 

Works of art have a language which 
speaks to the soul capable of reading it as 



MICHAEL ANGELO. 165 

truly as the printed page, ])ut the knowl- 
edo;e of different lanauaoes is not univer- 
sal nor innate, and as little may we expect 
some men to understand the sentiment of 
a picture or of a statue, as that of a poem 
written in a tongue which they have never 
learned. 

The world is full of beauty, Imt the 
beauties of nature do not satisf}'' the civil- 
ized man, and he early seeks to create for 
himself that which, suggested by nature, is 
yet not nature. He phices the picture in 
his dwelling, the statue in the public 
square, and plants on the beloved soil of 
his native land those monuments and 
lofty piles which his love for it has dic- 
tated, and which placed there make it more 
dear. And, in our anticipation of the 
Celestial City, I think it cannot be irrever- 
ent to imagine the pearly gates beautiful 
in form and proportion as in material, and 
the towers and palaces in contour and 
workmanship worthy of the foundation of 
precious stones and the golden streets 
among which they rise. 



166 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

FROM A LECTURE ON WINDS AND WAVES. 

I HAVE given you a limited and very 
imperfect view of one class of the phe- 
nomena of our globe. I have V)rought 
you but a breath from the domain of the 
air, but a drop from the realm of the 
ocean. The phenomena we have been 
considering are but a link in the great 
chain of causes and effects which make up 
the great system of nature. But they 
are sublime in their very connections, 
reaching to the sun and moon and starry 
heavens on the one hand, and to the 
microscopic organisms of darkness and 
the deep on the other. We cannot give 
a glance like this of to-day towards the 
machinery of nature without an enlarged 
conception of the Creator's works, and 
the extent of the field of scientific research. 
We have in our subject an illustration of 
the practical value of science. The mar- 
iner can to-day, by taking advantage of 
the winds and currents, whose direction 
has been marked out for him, sail directly 
upon the most favorable routes from one 
quarter of the globe to another, when in 
former times, " the pathways of the deep " 



WIN-DS AND WAVES. 167 

unknoAvn, " the wind in his circuits " a 
mystery, he might lie for months rotting 
and starving, without a breeze to waft him 
on his way ; or wandering into the region 
of the furious typhoons or the whirling 
cyclones might be lost amid storms and 
tempests. But setting aside all practical 
considerations, it ought to be sufficient for 
us to know that in studying the world 
which Supreme Intelligence has planned 
and wrought, we are walking where God 
has been before us, and still is. If we 
study nature with reverence, seeking Grod 
in all that his hand has made, we cannot 
fail to become wiser and better, more 
loving, more adoring, more devout. 

"True education consists more in a 
power to master a subject, — to perceive, 
discover, and marshal facts in relation 
thereto, than in the mere accumulation of 
those facts." The little purse of Fortuna- 
tus, in the fairy tale, which never con- 
tained more than one piece of gold at a 
time, but in which the one piece was 
always found when the owner sought for 
it, was better to him than a storehouse 
tilled full of the precious coins. — School 
Beport, 1880. 



168 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 



THE TEACHER AND HER WORK. 

The true and earnest teacher carries 
her pupils with her in school and out ; she 
studies them as individuals, and as classes. 
She studies for means to influence them, 
and to lead them to influence each other to 
a good end. She seeks to inform herself 
of all those things that may lienefit her 
pupils, which may interest them in the 
pursuit of knowledge and truth. She 
studies how she may best arouse the slug- 
gish, and direct the energies of the quick 
and active. Her own faculties are in full 
activity ; she imparts, as the forces of na- 
ture are imparted, by presence and con- 
tact with her pupils, an enthusiasm for 
learning, a hunger and thirst for knowl- 
edo;e. She outo-rows all methods that slie 
has learned, and communicates her ideas 
and draws out her pupils' powers she 
knows not how. They learn by simple 
contact with her enkindled nature, they 
know not how. She teaches " with brains," 
and her pupils work with their brains, 
desiring to know, and rejoicing in the 
consciousness of an awakened intellect. 



THE TEACHER AND HER WORK. 169 

Working herself from the standpoint of 
high moral and religious principles, she 
leads those whom she teaches to love truth 
and goodness, and to aspire for themselves 
to the highest good. To he a good teacher 
is to he one of the noblest of the workers 
with God. But what shall we say of some 
of the aspirants to this ofHce who are so 
little in advance of those whom they wish 
to teach that the preparatory examination 
is a terror, and who. Avhen that is passed, 
and they established at the head of a 
school, feel that the goal of life has been 
attained, and congratulate themselves that 
they no longer are obliged to go to school 
and learn lessons ! And what of those 
who will avow that they desire to become 
teachers because they do not wish to 
" work " for a living ! — /School Report, 
Littleton, 1879. 

Teachers are a hard-working class . They 
do the best they know for their pupils. 
Some teachers labor also to improve them- 
selves ; the best all do this, and the more 
success and experience a teacher has 
gained, the more earnest we find her in the 
work of self-improvement. But there are 



170 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

teachers who make less effort for this than 
would a skilful mechanic who seeks to keep 
himself in a high rank. He does not con- 
sider his trade learned when his apprentice- 
ship ends. If he has a " nice job " he plans 
it carefully, sharpens his tools, having se- 
lected with care those best adapted to his 
purpose. But we may find a young 
teacher who leaves her studies as she takes 
her place at ''(he desk." She reads no 
educational journal, forms no associations 
with other teachers, visits no schools. She 
hears the pupils recite from the liook, hav- 
ing nothing to add by which their interest 
may be aroused and a desire for knowledge 
awakened. Then she wonders why the 
children dislike school, why they are so 
dull, restless, and disobedient. No teacher 
can be expected to know everything at 
every moment, but an earnest teacher can, 
and should, know the lessons to be taught 
each da}^ in her school. She can, like 
Napoleon in his battles, be always strong 
at the point of attack. She can keep her 
own mind bright and active and capable of 
imparting brightness and activity to the 
minds made to come in contact with her 
own, ])y reading and study and observa- 



THE TEACHER AND HER WORK. 171 

tion, outside the l)ranches she i^ teaching. 
The teacher's first duty is with herself. 
She is the instrument by which her pupils 
are to be benefited, — the chronometer by 
which the ship is to be sailed. — School 
Report, Littleton, 1880. 

In view of the responsil>ilities of the 
hard-workino- and much-endurino- class of 
teachers, it sometimes seems strange that 
any one should be found wlio wf)uld dare 
to undertake to keep a school. One term 
at school has often been the turning point 
in the life of a child. In it he has gained 
an impulse which has set his face towards a 
resolute and honest manhood, or, failing 
that, his downward tendencies have been 
confirmed or new ones acquired, so that 
his life failure is sure. The best teachers- 
are not always those who have the greatest 
confidence in their finished preparation for 
their work. Teaching is not a trade, or 
a trick, to be once learned and then prac- 
tised without further thought ; the oldest 
and best teacher is often the one who most 
feels her deficiencies and who labors most 
earnestly to remedy them. The most suc- 
cessful teachers are those who can awaken 



172 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

and set in action the powers of the child's 
mind so that he may love learning and 
delight to work out for himself the diffi- 
culties of his lesson. There may be 
capabilities with little outward sign, and 
we know not what may be within the dull- 
est exterior. Some teachers kill the germs 
of progress in a child's mind l)y a want of 
respect for his ability and sympathy with 
his efforts to improve. And the ambition 
of the child is sometimes crushed ])y a 
want of personal respect which some 
teachers exhibit towards their scholars. 
One of the noblest utterances of the la- 
mented Gov. Andrew was, " I never knew 
what it was to turn away from a man be- 
cause he was low, or to despise one 
because he was weak." Like calls out 
like ; if a teacher respects her pupils as 
individuals, as fellow human beings, the 
cases are few that she will not be respected 
in return. And further still, the moral 
character of the child should lie trusted 
until the fullest evidence of guilt has been 
found. The pupils of Dr. Arnold used to 
say, " It 's a shame to lie to the Doctor, for 
he always believes what we say to him." 
Many well-meaning teachers fail in 



THE TEACHER AND HER WORK. 173 

creatiiiir an interest in the subjects tan<rht 
because they begin at the wrong end. 
They teach the alphabet and numbers, and 
to name places on the map of the earth's 
surface. But let them first secure a 
respect for learning, respect for a book as 
containing mysteries desirable to be un- 
folded, let the pupils have a glimpse of 
the wonders of mathematical knowledge, 
to an understanding of which the daily 
lessons are steps, let them contemplate the 
earth rolling in space, with its continents 
and seas, before they are required to com- 
mit to memory the names of cities and 
towns, and an interest may be excited 
which may make the lessons in school as 
interesting as those learned in a menao-erie. 
The word-method of teaching reading has 
taken the place of the old way of begin- 
ning with the letters. Let the principle 
involved here be applied to other things. 
No one would require an infant to learn 
the names of the legs, arms, l^ack, seat, 
and rounds of a chair, before he had seen 
or could name the chair itself, yet children 
are every day learning facts, dates, tables, 
and rules without the least comprehension 
of the wholes of which these form a part. 



174 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

And going still further back, before at- 
tempting to teach anything, the teacher 
should seek to gain the confidence of her 
pupils and the power to control not their 
bodies only, not their thoughts only, but 
the desires and emotions of their hearts, 
that she may lead them to love goodness 
and truth, to be honest and honorable, to 
live with clear consciences so that all truth, 
physical or moral, may be clearly seen 
and pursued with untrammelled energies. 
The intellect is often aroused through the 
heart, and the desire for learning and the 
love for it may be enkindled by one who 
imparts but little actual instruction. It is 
in the exciting of interest that the teacher's 
province really exists. Many of the great 
men of the world were dull boys, and 
many of our most useful men of to-day 
can o'ive the date of their awakened facul- 
ties. Then let the teacher study her 
pupils, search for the avenues to their 
minds, see what will interest them — it is 
better sometimes for them to be interested 
in mischief or play, than wholly dull ; if 
they can be alive to one thing they may l^e 
to another, and activity once awakened 
may be directed and controlled. In all 



LETTERS OF TRAVEL. 175 

things let her remember that all instruc- 
tion, all incentive to action, must have in 
view the development of the highest in the 
child's nature — the moral part ; that a 
noble character is the end and aim of all 
true human effort ; that the intellect is to 
be stiujulated in order that it may be 
used in the service of God and Humanity. 
— School Report, Littleton, 1881. 

FROM LETTERS OF TRAVEL. 

JSFear Drachenfeh on the Rhine, 1859. 
" We heard on our arrival that we were 
in the same hotel that had been honored 
a few months before by the young Prince 
of Wales and his party, and I fancied for 
awhile that they thought their former 
guest had sent his mother tcr make them 
a visit. Such running to and fro, and 
such tumbling of people one over another, 
I never saw. We were shown to a room 
at last as large as a Boston church, with 
one single bed in each corner, and a few 
other articles of furniture ranged up and 
downi the sides." 

Friburg, 1859. " We went at twilight 
to hear the oroau. It was one of the 



176 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

grandest addresses to the ear I ever heard. 
We had long been seeing great things, and 
now our ears were to take their sum. 
The imitation of the human voice is very 
wonderful. It is weird-like, affecting 
you with a kind of superstitious awe, as 
if you were in the presence of a naked 
soul striving for utterance and wandering 
to find its home. A voice without a 
body ! The performer closed with ' The 
Village Festival,' in which a thunder- 
storm was imitated. The whole force of 
the organ is here exhibited, and as the 
thunder reverlierated through the vaulted 
roof of the old cathedral, it seemed in the 
darkness as if some Prospero had enticed 
you into his cave and had called up a real 
tempest to overwhelm you." 

Borne, 1859. "St. Peter's is the no- 
blest building on earth, and I do not be- 
lieve it is in the power of man ever to 
excel it. Inside and outside, above and 
below, everywhere, it is grand and im- 
posing. 

" Did I tell you about meeting the 
Pope ? We were driving through one of 
the arches between St. Peter's and the 



LETTERS OF TRAVEL. Ill 

Vatican, and met him in a narrow place, 
Avith just room to pass. Our driver and 
courier got out and knelt down ; we bowed 
a little to him and received a very gra- 
cious bow in return. 

" I have seen one grand popish cereuKuiy 
and procession. We went early to the 
church of San Carlo where the Pope was 
to attend mass. We waited an hour or 
two while the church was filling with 
people of every class and with several 
detachments of soldiers. You must re- 
member that some churches here would 
contain ten or fifteen like ours at home, 
roof, steeple and all, and still not be full. 
These soldiers, all in their best uniforms, 
were ranged up and down on each side 
where his Holiness was to pass, and sta- 
tioned all al)out in the church. I was so 
simple as to imagine that the Pope was 
to Avalk from his door to his seat i)repared 
under a canopy near the high altar ; but 
it seems from the time he becomes Pope 
he is never seen to walk except the step 
or two he is oblio-ed to take beside the 
altar. I cannot tell you of all the ap- 
pendages, but at length he came in a 
high chair, resting on poles covered with 



178 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

red velvet, and Ijorne on the shoulders of 
four men. The people all knelt as he 
passed them in the church. We held our 
heads down a little, — peeping up all the 
time not to lose any part of the sight. 

" He was carried to his seat, his robes 
arranged and his cap adjusted l)y the car- 
dinals in attendance. Then there was a 
long ceremon}^ of going up, kneeling and 
kissing the Pope's hand (covered by his 
robe) , by the cardinals and priests. Then 
followed the mass, during which we left 
for the American Consul's house which 
was near, and from the Ijalcony of which 
we had a tine view of the procession." 

Vienna, Jan. 8, 1860. " We have met 
with no accident or trouble more serious 
than that from the porters over our bag- 
gage at the various stopping places. When 
you are leaving a place or arrive at one, 
these porters, /acc/f?ji«' they call them, will 
make a rush at your trunks, and every one 
who can manage to put a finger on one 
will come for you and demand a franc, 
about twenty cents. One set of men will 
carry the trunks^ where 3"ou doiif want 
them, and then you must pa}' another set 



LETTERS OF TRAVEL. 179 

to take them where you do. All travellers 
are subject to this anno^^ance." 

Dresden, Feb. 14, 18G0. "Everythmg 
is genuine German here. At dinner all 
stand silent for a moment before sitting- 
down, while the master of the house l)0ws 
to the company, wishing them good appe- 
tite, after which all sit down and help each 
other or themselves in a very simple fash- 
ion. The lady of the house rises to dis- 
miss the table, while all shake hands and 
wish gesegnete maJdzeit, or, ' May your meal 
be blessed to you.' 

" We have here the genuine German 
feather bed to sleep under. We thought 
we had seen it before at hotels, where we 
often had a sort of laro-e cushion coverino^ 
about half the bed at the foot, and some- 
times a down quilt ; but here we have the 
genuine, under which we sleep and noth- 
ing else. It is quite large, very light, of 
the softest down, covered with linen like 
a pillow, which covering is changed as 
sheets would l^e. We crawl under this 
and sleep well. It seems to have no 
weight, and lits down close to you and is 
as comfortable as possible. We laughed 



180 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

SO much at first that we could hardly go to 
bed. You feel as if you were in the 
hottoDi of a big squash pie ! 

" You will be amused to see the idea the 
people here have of the Sal)1)ath. It was the 
same in Italy. Here in the churches they 
appear very devout, and as far as I can 
make it out the preaching is well enough. 
The hymns I can read, and they are very 
devotional. The family where we are, go 
occasionally to the church in the morning, 
have about noon the best dinner of the 
week, then usually go to walk and take 
coffee and cakes at some one of the 
numerous cafes to be found in the direc- 
tion of all the walks. . When they come 
home, if they are disposed, they take 
their embroidery or other work, perhaps 

00 in the evenino- to a theatre or a ball. 

1 cannot understand it. They believe the 
Bible, and have a great deal of reverence 
for sacred things. The shops are all 
closed on Sundays except the cafes, cook 
shops, and provision stores, but they have 
no idea of keeping the day as we do." 

,^ 
Chihuahua, Mexico, March 21, 188(5. 
" I never realized what a countrv would 



LETTERS OF TRAVEL. 18 1 

be without grass. It is as naked as the 
road everywhere, except the little culti- 
vated bits. The mountains look like 
heaps of stuff thrown out from a furnace ; 
no trees and no grass or l^ushes upon 
them. 

"The people interest me most of any- 
thing. We were taken in carriages and 
omnibuses to the city, a mile or two away, 
this morning, and to a long ride all around 
the city. We went to the Catholic ser- 
vice in the Cathedral and heard a very 
vigorous sermon, wdiich I hope did the 
numerous hearers much good. I under- 
stood only one word. 

"The people, very old and very young, 
infants of all qualities and conditions, 
knelt on the bare stone or board floors. 
There were old, shrivelled, and dirty, 
ragged Indian men and women, Spanish 
women and girls with the shawl over the 
head, some with cotton gowns, muslin, 
gingham, and calico, and some with tine 
silks. One wore a delicate lilac l)rocade, 
trimmed with white lace, and a thin ])lack 
shawl over her head just as you put one on 
to run out after the chickens. Some young 
men were like dry goods clerks, quite in 



182 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

American style, but most of the men had 
serapes, a kind of striped carriage l)lanket 
worn rather gracefully over the shoulders. 
No hats were worn in church, and they 
take them off when they pass the church 
door ; but the hat generally seems the best 
part of them, high crowned, broad 
brimmed, and often trimmed with l)eads, 
cords, and tassels. But the Mexican is in 
his glory when astride any kind of animal, 
horse, mule, or donkey. He appears a 
veritable king in his manner, and keeps 
the beast galloping without cessation. 
The bright-colored serape and other tog- 
gery give him a picturesque appearance." 

MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 

What is Poetry ? — There are two classes 
of ideas ; one connected with the material 
and the other with the spiritual part of 
our nature. That which is itself material, 
and does not in any way connect with the 
spiritual, is prosaic. That which is spir- 
itual, or connected with what is spiritual, 
is poetic. So much of religion even as 
has reference to the })erf()rmance of cer- 
tain duties, or to the securing of one's 
own safety in another world, is prosaic ; 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 183 

that of it, which associates duty with the 
sentiment of love, is poetic. The every- 
day duties of life, considered as terminat- 
ing in physical good, are prose ; consid- 
ered as promotive of spiritual good or 
proceeding from a sentiment which is ele- 
vated, they become poetry. Poetry im- 
plies a certain degree of elevation. Ideas 
may have almost any degree of this, and 
in proportion as they rise above the com- 
mon current of any one's thoughts do 
they become poetic to that person. Hence, 
what is poetry to one is prose to another ; 
and the everyday thoughts of one are 
poetry to others. And we talk of a poem 
for poets, that is, one that is as far above 
the ordinary range of poetry as that is 
above common life. Ideas are elevated 
as they l)ecome connected with the spirit- 
ual part of our nature. A common act is 
poetic as emanating from a lofty senti- 
ment. The life of Hiawatha in its events 
was as prosaic as that of many other In- 
dians ; but connecting these events with 
his mission to his people, they become 
poetic. The matron in her cottage, cutting 
a loaf of bread, is [)rosaic enough, but 
viewed by a former lover as dispensing 



184 A TEACHER'S Af ESS AGE. 

food to the children of her love, the scene 
is full of poetry. An Irishman cutting 
rocks is not poetic, but when Ajax storms 
and hurls a mighty rock against his ene- 
mies, we think the circumstance not unfit 
for a place in a poem. The same princi- 
ple is true applied to natural scenery, and 
in painting and music. Poetry, then, 
comprises those ideas which are elevated 
above the ordinary range. 

Woman and Temperance Work. — Our 
temperance orators must always fall back 
on the moral and religious forces necessary 
to make the laws effective. And who so 
well adapted to exert the influence needed 
as women ? They can speak their minds 
without being suspected of self-seeking- 
motives behind the spoken words. What 
they say and do is for the truth and right, 
independent of seltish ends. Women are 
said to l)e, and I l)elieve are, as a rule, 
more spiritually minded, more elevated 
in life and aim, than men, and more fitted 
to uplift and inspire the downfallen and 
the weak. Their influence in the temper- 
ance work is acknowledged as the purest 
and most ennoblinu' ihe world has known. 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 185 

Women can and should supply motives, 
encourage and stimulate men to pure and 
noble aims in the often demoralizing and 
depressing influences of their environment. 

[1890.] 

Woman and Man. — In answer to the 
question, "If woman has not the manly 
form of Webster, how can she have his 
gigantic mind?" I have yet to learn if, 
even in material things, size is a criterion 
of value or of poAver. Is not a dollar's 
worth of gold as valuable as a dollar's 
worth of feathers? Is not a ball from the 
cannon's mouth more effective than the 
vast weight of Ajax's rock ? and a steam 
engine than the ponderous battering ram 
of ancient times? While we wonder at 
the massive Sphinx, we admire the Apollo. 
The pyramids are vast, but even in their 
completeness they fail to call forth the 
emotion which the ruins of Palmyra's 
Tem})le of the Sun, or the Parthenon, com- 
mands. Then, among both animals and 
men, size is never the standard of power. 
The lion is the king of beasts, a much 
smaller animal than the ox, but how 
much more terrible. The powers of 



186 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

woman, while not ecjutil, L e., alike in all 
respects, may be equivalent to those of 
man. A circle may contain as much sur- 
face as a square, but will you say the 
square is larger because its diagonal is 
greater than the diameter of the circle? 
The temperaments of man and woman are 
dissimilar. Hence, the manifestations of 
mind, when of the same character, Avill be 
unlike, A woman may sing bass, but it 
will not be a man's bass ; so a man may 
sing treble, and none of us in listening to 
it will doubt the propriety of the name 
" falsetto " when applied to the perform- 
ance. The man and the woman may sing 
the same part, and while his excels in 
strength and power, hers is an octave 
higher. Anatomists tell us that the 
female brain is distinctive from that of 
man, that it is lighter, and that this dif- 
ference is discerni])le even in infancy. 
The mind, therefore, is not de})endent on 
a large amount of matter for its manifes- 
tations, inasmuch as we are all accustomed 
to regard angels and disembodied spirits 
as enjoying an advantage over us, and we 
speak always intelligibly of the " fetters of 
the tlesh." 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 187 

Books. — Many hours you will spend in 
the companionship of books, those potent 
solaces of human grief, and sources of 
treasures of knowledge. Through them 
you may go hack in youi" S3^mpathies to 
the inhabitants of Troy among her smok- 
ing ruins ; your hearts may swell with 
Ca?sar as he passes the Rubicon : you may 
contend with Luther against the storms of 
opposition of the " Man of Sin " in his 
anger ; your hearts may sigh with Bona- 
parte as he sees his last hope cut off on 
the field of Waterloo ; or you may weep 
with our own Washington as he bids adieu 
to his companions in arms at the close of 
a nation's struggle. But books are at best 
silent teachers, and we know how much 
better a subject may be comprehended and 
impressed on the memory when associated 
with the tones and looks of a living teacher. 
Though many have made progress alone 
and unassisted, we cannot estimate the 
amount of labor thus expended which 
might have been lietter employed, nor can 
wx know how much greater would have 
been the attainments under suitable 
directors. 



188 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

Meiifal Growth. — The happiness of 
childhood is often overrated. We could 
not, with our present knowledge, enjoy 
the amusements of another childhood, even 
if free from care. The only pure and per- 
fect happiness arises from a conscientious 
discharge of duty to God and man, of 
which a child knows little. As we pro- 
gress in mental and moral knowdedge our 
sources of happiness are multiplied. If, 
in the course of our existence here, where 
the aspirations of the soul are constantly 
retarded by the hody, we can perceive the 
progress of the mental faculties, how much 
more rapid must be this advance in that 
state in which the imprisoned soul shall lie 
set free and pursue its education under 
the immediate tuition of an Omniscient 
Teacher. If we can trace our increased 
capacity for enjoyment in this imperfect 
state, how w^ill allour powers be expanded 
and tilled with unalloyed bliss in that 
world where the disem1)odied spirit shall 
rest in the bosom of the Giver of all hap- 
piness. 

The mind is not constituted with the 
desire and capacity for improvement with- 
out objects to gratify its longings. When 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 189 

ages on ages have rolled away, every mo- 
ment of which has been spent in the accu- 
mulation of new truths, wo shall have but 
just begun to learn. Eternity will exhibit 
no point beyond which there is naught to 
discover. The nature of the mind is such, 
that were there such a point, all beyond 
must be misery. Nothing more to learn ! 
An angel in the abodes of bliss would shed 
more bitter tears than angel ever dropped 
before, if God could show him no further 
proofs of skill and goodness. The mind 
is fitted to progress, without limit, in 
knowledge of the countless perfections of 
Him who purchased our salvation. With 
the moral as ^vith the intellectual facul- 
ties, increase of cultivation enlarges the 
capacity. 

Genius and Toil. — It is one of the 
brightest tokens of true genius to be able 
to surmount difficulty after difiiculty. 
Genius carries no enchanter's wand with 
which to level hills and mountains, but she 
l)rings to her task implements of hard and 
persevering toil, and with the labor of her 
own unwearied hand she completes her 
everlasting monument. And upon whom 



190 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

her mantle of inspiratiou has truly fallen, 
effort, the most laborious, will not be 
scorned. There are those who, professing 
her power, have shone forth like the corus- 
cations of some Hashing meteor, to dazzle 
but not illume, who, blinded by their own 
unsteady light, have stumbled over the 
difficulties in their onward path. But 
those whom she most highly favors, shin- 
ing as the meridian sun, perceive obstruc- 
tions but to overcome them. Hours of 
tedious study, by the solitary lamp in 
the silent watches of the night, must be 
spent Ijy him wdio would go forth in the 
kindly light of day and astonish the world 
by his achievements. It gives nothing to 
man without great labor. Deprive him of 
money, alienate his friends, leave him 
destitute of every external aid, you place 
no insuperal)le barrier before him. The 
way is plain which leads up to the In-ight 
temple of happiness and honor, and he 
will reach it, for 

" Under the whole heaveu there is nothing difficuh. 
It is only that men's minds are not determined." 

The Poiver of Thought. — By means of 
thought, the penman of Holy Writ, with 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 191 

supernatural power, holds up to the strain- 
ing vision of the poor earth worm, not 
the mirage of fancy, but promises of 
future glory surpassing the couce})lions 
of the most vivid imagination ; promises 
on which tlie soul may rest as the infant 
in the arms of its mother, and, pillowed 
upon them, may fall asleep and awake to 
realize their eternal stability. Thought 
is the connecting chain between man and 
the Deity. He may twist together its 
libres and enlarge its links, till, by it, he 
can almost climb from earth to heaven. 

Life and Poetry . — Life without poetry 
is dark and unlovely. It is ])ut the 
skeleton of an existence, w^ithout flesh or 
drapery. Even if the poet's dream, like 
a half transparent veil, hide the deformi- 
ities of the world, and I am ever deceived, 
— tear not the veil away; still let me 
dream of beauty, of love, of happiness. 

Mistakes. — There is perhaps nothing 
with which we are more impatient than 
mistakes, either our own or those of other 
people. If a bad thing is deliberately 



192 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

planned and carried out to the end, we 
may have some degree of satisfaction in 
success, we may take some pleasure in 
seeing the means adapted to the end and 
the inevitable workini's of cause and 
effect ; but mistakes seem all wrong, no- 
body planned for them, they are indeed 
in opposition to everybody's plan, and 
often a surprise and discomfiture to every- 
body. They are often mortifying to our 
self-esteem ; we condemn our folly in not 
having foreseen our way better, and per- 
haps complain of Providence in not hav- 
ing made us wiser or more capable. 
There are fatal mistakes, mistakes that 
can never l)e remedied in this life, which 
may affect our happiness for eternity. 
But many of these disagreeable experi- 
ences are the necessary discipline of a 
good life, and must be accepted as a part 
of the machinery of our existence by 
which we are enabled to climb to higher 
and better things. 

A stor}' is told of Napoleon which 
illustrates this. He once found himself 
with several of his officers by the sea- 
side, at nightfall, with the tide coming- 
in. They all became bewildered and lost 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 193 

entirely all notion of their right direction. 
The waters were al)ont them and they 
knew not where to look for the shore. At 
length the hero of Austerlitz and Marengo 
called to his companions, ordering a halt. 
He then commissioned the several individ- 
uals to set out, each in a different direc- 
tion, while he stood still to hear their re- 
ports. A few moments sufficed to show 
them in which direction was the deep sea 
and in which was the shallow water of the 
shore. Now, every one who exerted him- 
self in this search was an agent in its suc- 
cess. Those who went in the wrong- 
direction contributed, not less than the one 
who was sent towards the land, to its dis- 
covery. So our numerous mistakes may 
be a necessary antecedent to our ultimate 
success. Provoking as they sometimes 
are, they teach us what is not the right 
direction, and train us to watchfulness and 
caution for the future . We do not f orofet 
a lesson thus learned. According to the 
homely adage, " Bought wit is better than 
taught wit, if yoii don't buy it too dear." 

Social Intercourse. — We have all ex- 
perienced the enjoyment of social inter- 



194 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

course. We have felt our heart leap with 
delight as we have clasped the haud of 
some tried friend, and have drank in new 
life as we have exchanged thoughts and 
feelings and opened our souls each to 
each in loving sympathy. We know the 
pleasure there is in the social hour, when 
two or many meet, desiring each to say 
and to do those things which may enter- 
tain or amuse one another. Such enjoy- 
ment does us good. It is good to be free 
from care and worry, if for only an hour ; 
to feel that life is a blessed and beautiful 
thing, and that God is to be thanked for 
its gift. It is good to renew our interest 
in our fellow mortals and to increase our 
knowledge of them. Then the intellect is 
stimulated l)y contact with other intellect, 
by the sport of the light tournament as 
truly as by the tug and roar of the heavy 
artillery. And persons learn, as they 
meet, to set a right value on their own 
powers ; the conceited lose some of their 
too abundant plumes ; while the timid 
gain courage and strength by contact with 
those who overawed them at a distance. 
Every one sees the power of the well- 
bred, unscllish behavior and cultivated 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 195 

manners and language which society pro- 
motes, to influence men and women for 
good or for evil. And yet the time 
and attention required by society are 
either grudojnoly bestowed or refused 
altogether ! This may be, perhaps, be- 
cause we undervalue the opportunities Ave 
have for social intercourse. We feel our- 
selves, possibly, superior to those we 
meet on ordinary occasions. If the com- 
pany which we are invited to enter be 
composed of distinguished ]iersons, very 
well, — but these common people ! We 
forget that our superiors, whom we enjoy 
so much, must find us the common ]:)eople, 
such as we despise, and that the occasion 
so dull to us, may be, to some humble 
soul, a rare opportunity. 

We do not always appreciate the at- 
tractions which " society " possesses for 
most young people. The power of a 
church to keep the young within its influ- 
ence often turns upon its character in a 
social point of view. Young people muf<t 
have society, and if it is not found in one 
church it is in another, or even where no 
influence of church or Christian people is 
exerted. In the jjlan of extending the 



19(3 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

kingdom of God through a visible church, 
the social element in man's nature was in- 
tended to play an important part, and in 
connection with the church, man's social 
nature should be cultivated. And notice 
some thinos which refined and refining 
social intercourse is, and is not. First, 
it is intercourse ; it is not sitting or stand- 
ing around in groups, gazing at one an- 
other or into vacancy, with no conversa- 
tion. In the second place, it is respectful 
and dignified ; it is not a promiscuous 
rushing together of peo})le young and old, 
with the single idea of freedom and frolic. 
Thirdly, it should be general ; people who 
wish to see and to converse with only one 
individual should not enter the social cir- 
cle to do so. And, finally, there should 
be real conversation, not mere chit-chat, 
or oio-olino; nonsense, but each one in 
going into society should fix upon some 
topics of interest in his own mind, on 
which he may seek or impart information ; 
he may propose some question which may 
be lightly discussed, and by which mental 
activity may be excited ; or he may, by 
puzzle, anecdote, or game, amuse or en- 
tertain some who would otherwise help 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 197 

to form the not enviable bouquet of wall- 
flowers. — i^rom the ''Colby Voice," 1872. 

Culture and Religion. — High mental 
cultivation failed to teach the Athenians 
anything of the true God or of acceptable 
worship to him. They furnish a melan- 
choly illustration of the necessity of a 
revelation of the will of God towards the 
race of fallen man. The wisest philoso- 
pher of Athens failed to satisfy himself as 
to the nature and attributes of God, or to 
form a system of ethics unol^jectionable to 
himself. One precept of the heaven- 
taught Jesus of Nazareth has done more 
to exalt, purify, and bless the human 
family than all the philosophy of antiquity. 
[1853.] ^ 

Tliouglds on Death. — I like to contem- 
plate death in the manner Bishop Butler 
views it, as analogous to birth ; that it is 
only a change of form ; that like birth it 
brings us into a higher and more perfect 
state of existence. May we not regard 
the chano-e as an entrance into a state of 
freedom, one in which all the powers of 
the soul will l)e infinitely expanded, l)et- 



198 A TEACHER'S MESSAOE. 

ter able to take in lofty and nol)le ideas, 
better able to study the truths with which 
the universe abounds. One reason, per- 
haps, why the thought of death is so un- 
welcome is our want of spirituality. We 
forget that we have a soul as well as a 
body, in the plenitude of our care for the 
latter, and the thought fixes itself more 
upon the situation of the l)ody than the 
state of the soul. We think of the coffin 
and the winding sheet, of the cold, lonely 
grave, of the decay of the body, instead 
of the released soul rejoicing in heavenly 
bliss. We forget to look beyond the 
o'rave, foraet that " legions of anoels can- 
not confine the spirit there," l)ut that, if 
blessed with the Christian's hope, it is re- 
joicing in the bosom of its Saviour. 

It is a beautiful idea of Swedenljorg 
that we may, even before death, l)ecome 
sensible of spiritual jiresenee ; that w-e may 
hold converse with departed spirits ; that 
there is a spiritual medium of interchange 
of thought which all those who live aright 
may attain to , However fanciful this may 
be, we cannot doubt that the spirit is sus- 
ceptible of a higher development, and that 
we need not l)e so fettered by the fiesh as 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS. 199 

we are at present. We may so live that 
pale death may come to us in far other 
aspect than one of terror. [1(S45.] 

Suffering and Sorro/v. — In our present 
state, s^^mpathy with the sorrows of others 
does not make us wholly miserable ; it may 
even be more ennobling, and consequently 
more productive of happiness, than indif- 
ference to such sorrows. I saw at a depot 
one summer, a woman evidently near the 
last stage of consumption, with one or two 
friends about to set out on a journey. 
They were all in humble circumstances, but 
neat and respect:d)le. It was painful to 
look on the woman, as her neighbors and 
friends ran in to take their leave of her, 
previous to what they seemed to feel was 
their final separation, and her attendants 
with tearful eyes ministered to her wants. 
I was quite overcome. Misery, I thought, 
— the world is full of misery. But dwell- 
ing on the scene I thought how much bet- 
ter that these poor women should gather 
about their friend and weep with her and 
for her, than that they should be insensible 
to grief, and I (juestioned whether they 
were not both better and happier for this 



200 A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 

exercise of tender emotion. And it seemed 
to me that tiiere was no evil, after all, but 
from which good might be educed. 

Our capacity for loving will be infinitely 
increased in eternity. It cannot be that 
those whom we once loved, to whom our 
hearts were knit by all but the highest 
spiritual sympathy, can there find no place 
in our affections. 

Fadeless Beaut//. — It is the infiuence of 
the soul moulding the gross clay to its will 
that gives the highest beauty, even to a 
mortal countenance. Who has not learned 
to look beneath the fair exterior for this 
o^em which burns with living radiance far 
above that of senseless matter ? And when, 
on the morning of the resurrection, the 
redeemed of the Lord shall come up, when 
the power of perceiving spiritual existence 
shall have been infinitely increased, how 
then shall the beauty of a pure and holy 
spirit strike upon that assembled multi- 
tude ! Then shall the saints shine in un- 
fading loveliness, and the beauty of holi- 
ness fill every soul. [1844.] 



A TEACHER'S MESSAGE. 201 



TO HANNAH P. DODGE. 

O FRIEND and teacher ! Thy good message true 

Has ruug both clear and strong- among the oft 

Uncertain sounds, which, vaguely sweet and soft. 

So lulled our consciences that thej^ could view 

As beautiful some error robed anew ; 

But when thy clarion note rung out aloft, 

Our souls marched on in triumiih, as they doffed 

All cumbrous sophistries, to walk with you. 

Speed on thy message, that forevermore 

It majr awaken silent souls to speech, 

And througli its invitation nerve to reach 

Those heights remote, which barriers seemed 

before. 
Activities of life there are, which wear 
Away the earth, to show the soul more fair. 

Helen V. (^loues. 



iliiiSiiiimi li f °^^"^ss ^1 

022 137 782 5 



